


Healing

by SunshineChildx



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (slaps fic) this bad boy can fit so many ships in it, Angst, Edeleth but some scenes with minor ships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Started writing it - Edelgard had a breakdown - Bon appétit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 14:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineChildx/pseuds/SunshineChildx
Summary: "I have them too," you say. As soon as the words leave your lips, Edelgard falls silent. Silence returns to the room, enclosing both of you in it. "I have them too," you repeat. "Scars.""Professor..." Edelgard begins to speak, her voice a mere whisper, but you don't let her continue. She has to listen to you. This is important."Some are huge. Some are barely noticeable. They, too, cover my skin," as you speak, you gaze at your own body covered with marks. They are all part of the pattern of your skin, part of you. "You can see them."Edelgard looks at you with pleading eyes, seeking for the answers that will never come, for the reassurance that in other life, things would have been easier, less painful. She searches in your eyes for peace, for safety. Lilac storming inside of you like she knows the way in, like she always was supposed to be there.Your stomach feels heavy, yet your hand is light when you reach up for her face, cleansing the one and only tear that escaped her fortress of ice.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 20
Kudos: 154





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Spoilers for Edelgard's support conversations and her past.  
Starring: Edelgard who's had Enough and needs Quality Comfort and Cuddles, F!Byleth who's incredible bad at Human but is trying her best, and a bunch of other kids blushing way more than necessary.

"That is the end of this year's battle of the Eagle and Lion! And the winners are..." Seteth announces using his solemn voice. "The Black Eagles!"

You release a sigh of relief; you didn’t really notice you’d been holding your breath during the final moments of the battle. Using the back of your hand, you wipe the sweat off your forehead, pulling away the strands of scruffy hair that stick to it. Above your head, the clear blue sky shines with shimmering azure colors, the sun shining proudly high above. It's a beautiful day. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with mid-morning fresh air, and you can almost feel the oxygen reaching every tired muscle in your body. It's been a hard-fought battle, you and your students have worked hard to give the best of yourselves. And, at last, you have risen to victory, as Seteth so nobly just announced. In front of you, Edelgard shakes hands with a defeated Dimitri, who smiles at her tired but content, with solemnity, acknowledging his defeat; and with it, the very final moment of the battle that takes place every year between the three houses.

With an agile motion of your wrist, you stuff the sword into its sheath and let it rest on your side. Next to you, your students start gathering, smiling and feeling proud of their victory. Among them all, the voice of the future emperor sounds strong and victorious.

"Thank you for your hard work, everyone! I daresay that prize is as good as ours," Edelgard says, raising her axe as a symbol of unity and triumph.

You see the rest of the students from the other houses regrouping as well; some patting each other on the back, appreciating the good effort they've done; others complaining about their defeat; others praising opponents' techniques; and others strategizing for the next friendly battles. Each in their own way, the students receive the end of an important event they will always remember. All around you, your students walk by to talk about the last minutes of the fight and the impressions they had.

"Oh goddess, it's finally over!" Bernadetta says, sighing loudly while storing her iron bow and the arrows she hasn't used. Her usually scruffy purple hair is remarkably messy now, you notice, but you don't find the usual glow of cowardice in her eyes. Instead, you see the hidden color of pride. Even so, her voice sounds shaky as always. "I was certain I was going to die today!"

"Come on, Bernie! You're alright" Dorothea smiles at her with her usual affection.

Dorothea is one of the few students without a noble title studying at the academy. In your class, there is an empress, a princess, and several counts and dukes, along with other titles. Still, even though she doesn’t own any lands or a historical family name, her skill with the sword and magic is undeniable. You remember the expression of complete bliss on her face when you taught her to do magic for the first time, how new paths opened up for her that she hadn't considered before. Beyond her life as an opera singer, that she had already left behind, and searching for a good husband in the academy, the girl didn't aim for much more. But ever since then, her engagement in battles with your class has been a key element in all your victories. As you look at her, smiling warmly at Bernadetta, you recognize once again that a person's worth goes far beyond titles and crests. You really are learning a lot from your students.

"You act and smell like prey, but predators would feel... uh, would be proud of you today," Petra says, a smile on her face.

Despite her difficulty with the language, Petra's skills, as well as her honesty and warmth, reaches out to all the other students in your house. Someday she’ll be the queen of Bridgid, when her grandfather leaves the throne. You have no doubt that she will be an excellent ruler.

"Is... that a good thing?" Bernadetta asks, not sure she really understood her friend's words of encouragement. By now, you know that the word 'you' and 'predator' in the same sentence makes her shiver.

"What she is trying to say is that you were brave on the battlefield, right?" Dorothea steps in, placing a hand on the smaller girl's shoulder. Her gaze, however, is aimed at Petra, as it usually is every time the foreign girl is around.

"Yes. You were brave, Bernadetta," Petra nods, glad that her message is clear. She turns to the former songstress, and for a moment you think you see her eyes shining differently. "You too, Dorothea. You seemed to me brave and beautiful like a horse."

"Like a horse, you say?" Dorothea laughs sarcastically, slightly opening her eyes more than usual, pretending to be surprised. Petra's strange comparisons are something you're all slowly getting used to. At first, there were people who were offended, but now it's more endearing than anything else. From what you’ve observed, Dorothea always seems to find them amusing. "I do not know if that is the animal I hold most resemblance with, though."

Petra shakes her head, pausing for a second to find the right words. The intricate braid of her hair sways behind her head, stealing purple sparkles from the sun.

"In Bridgid, horses are symbols of strength and, uh, unity. They always care... no, they are caring and loyal. I love horses a great amount."

Petra smiles innocently, happy to share with her friend her passion for both horses and the way Dorothea fights in battle. Dorothea, in turn, blushes. But since she has so much experience flirting, she conceals it with a beautiful smile directed at a single person. With anyone else, Dorothea always has the situation under control. She knows what to say and when to say it to get the reactions she wants, and that’s how she gets almost any date she wishes for. But when she's around Petra, even you can say that her meticulous control slips out of her fingers. The sound of her laughter grows a little more real, and the brightness in her gaze is more genuine. In your mind, you wonder what all those signs might mean.

"My, that is a beautiful description, Petra!" Dorothea wraps Petra's arm around with her own, smiling cheerfully. Petra nods, satisfied. "Thank you very much!”

"What do you think, Professor?"

Bernadetta has spotted you watching the scene and has walked up to you. You take a moment to consider your answer.

All around you, the battlefield, already deserted, looks peaceful. A gentle breeze descends through the surrounding mountains and clears the air around you. The leaves and small plants of the ground rock with it, even those that have been stepped on in the midst of battle dance again waved by the light wind. There’s only serenity now, but a few moments ago chaos prevailed, a mayhem that you were leading. Looking around, you can almost see the shadows of your students' movements, running towards their targets, with axes, lances and swords certainly aimed at their enemies. You feel a sprout of warmth in your chest when you think of all you’ve taught them and how far they have come so far. You remember that Jeralt once told you that this is how pride feels like, a feeling of happiness when you think of the triumphs of the people around you. Yes, you are proud of them.

"I think you all did great," you say, with that warm feeling pumping into your chest rhythmically, despite the absence of a heartbeat there.

"Yay! That's reassuring," Bernadetta smiles sweetly, like a little girl being praised.

"I am Ferdinand Von Aegir," you suddenly hear an energetic, melodic voice behind your back. "Of course I did well. I did even better than Edelgard herself! As a noble, it is my sworn duty to uphold the royal legacy of righteous warriors that my house has held for decades. As the future head of house Aegir, I must-"

Ferdinand, waving his hair from his forehead in a graceful movement and swelling his chest, boasts of his title as you’ve heard him do so many times before. Behind him, a deep sigh cuts off his talking.

"Oh, will somebody shut him up?" Linhardt says, covering his mouth to stop a yawn. "I'm excessively tired for this. I would need to take a nap before hearing him talk about his legacy one more time."

"Come on, Lin! You're tired already? I could keep fighting like this for days!" Caspar exclaims, appearing out of nowhere with a bright smile and raising his fists to the sky. "I would beat up a hundred more Blue Lions, and two hundred more Golden Deers! But oh, I guess there aren't that many students at the academy, are they?"

The residual energy of the battle is clear in the air, but even you know that after such a big effort, it's best to rest. Besides, Seteth would scold you for endless hours if you let your students fight each other again. Thinking about it sends a shiver down your spine.

"That's enough fighting for today," you say, shaking your head. "Everyone, go to the provisional infirmary to check for injuries."

Provisional infirmary because, being far from Garreg Mach, the monastery staff and you only brought the essentials to treat any injuries the students might have. And neither Manuela nor Hanneman have attended the battle, mainly because Manuela has been stabbed and is still recovering from her wounds. You make a mental note to ask her how she is when you return to the monastery at night. Not because you doubt she’ll recover, but because your father had insisted several times that people appreciate it when you show your concern for them. Lately, you’ve been trying to listen to his advice more, to show yourself closer to other people, even if this is still something complicated that you’re . You wonder if it's the influence of your students that's driving you to try and change.

Immediately following your order, the boys and girls start to disperse, and soon you’re left alone. The sun is starting to shine less brightly and you are thankful that it isn't so hot. If it were up to you, you'd be wearing shorter, lighter clothes, more accessible for moving and fighting. For you and all students. But when you proposed it at the last faculty meeting, Lady Rhea was quite scandalized and repeatedly insisted that she wouldn’t allow anyone to wear such revealing clothing in the monastery. You didn't quite understand why it was so bad, but you accepted it anyway. Even so, you still think this heat would be more bearable with less clothing.

The battlefield is now deserted, except for a single person who remains standing, gazing beyond the mountains. You approach her, the metallic sound of your sword in your belt rattles rhythmically along with your footsteps.

"You did well, Edelgard."

You say, firm but softly. The future emperor is facing away from you, her long white hair swaying slightly with the breeze; tangled messily by the tips, but still impeccable as ever. When she hears your voice, she spins around. Her eyes of etheric violet meet yours.

"As did you, my teacher," she says, a sweet smile of gratitude is lazily drawn on her face. "This may sound as an unjust thing to say, but I celebrate that you fought alongside us after all, despite the other professors not doing so."

"Manuela is still on her path to recovery," you nod, remembering the teacher's insistence that you should attend the battle even if she didn’t, the certainty in her voice when she said her students would fight fervently against your house. And so it had been. But it's a shame that you don’t count on her to heal the students. "I do not know who runs the infirmary in the meantime."

"I wouldn't know, either."

Edelgard shakes her head, looking away at a sparrow that has landed on the ground, pecking for food.

"Your classmates are heading there to have their injuries healed. You should join them, too."

You say, repeating the routine of every battle. You are far from the monastery, but the most important wounds can now be treated, and then when you get to Garreg Mach the hurt students will go to the proper infirmary. _It's important to take care of the body_, you think, _because you can't fight with a broken body_. You expect Edelgard to nod and go with the rest of her classmates. However, the girl looks away with a stern look.

"I won't be needing to," she says. "I'm quite alright."

You've never been very good at understanding the emotions people hide behind their words and deeds. In fact, you've never been very good at understanding your own feelings, which since you came to Garreg Mach are starting to bloom more often. The mercenaries you and your father worked with sometimes joked that you might not even be human since your face was always impassive. That's why you had always found it interesting, to say the least, observing other people's expressions, as if they were open books filled with unknown hieroglyphs. Even today, you can hardly say what people’s expressions really mean sometimes.

And with Edelgard, this mystery is even more complicated to solve. The young emperor reminds you of yourself in certain ways. Her face is always serious and formal, determination and security shining in her gaze like an impregnable shield. Just like it happens with you, other people have a hard time understanding what lies behind that perfect unshakable face. Still, you know that yours is genuine. Until relatively recently, emotions had never shown up in your chest. Nor had you felt the bubbling sensation in your lower abdomen when something is fun. And you don't remember a single time when you’ve cried, either alone or in front of anyone. Not even your father.

You keep an indifferent attitude because you don't really have anything to show, at least most of your life has been like that. But, for some reason, you have the feeling that Edelgard is different. As if there was a sea of emotions under the quiet perfection of her gaze. Like a mask that doesn't let you see beyond.

But you've never been good at understanding other people's emotions, so when Edelgard looks away and the lilac glow in her eyes darkens, you wonder what it will mean.

"Are you sure?" you insist. Manuela has told you many times the importance of having all your students checked for injuries. You think of the high-pitched tone of her voice scolding you if she finds out someone hasn't been properly attended to, and you feel your head starting to ache. "On the battlefield, one of Dimitri's attacks barely caught you off guard, and-"

"I do not believe that you would want me to repeat myself. As I said, I'm perfectly fine," Edelgard says, turning to you with a glance that could freeze someone's blood. Her expression has changed, you realize. Her frown is furrowed and her arms are crossed; and she is upright, as if she wanted to look bigger, more powerful. The softness of her voice has vanished all at once. "As the future Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, I shall know better than anyone about my needs. I certainly do not need you, Professor, to be watching over me like a helpless child."

You frown. As you've observed, people often change their attitude when someone does or says something that, for that person, is unacceptable or upsetting. You wonder if you have said something that has offended the future emperor. Confusion thickens your mind, and you look behind her iron gaze for some sign that gives you a clue.

Since you started teaching at the monastery, you’ve realized that giving extra attention to your students makes them perform better in every aspect. When you've done something kind they didn't expect, like remember what tea they prefer, they're usually happy and their motivation increases, making your job as a teacher easier. It's something that works with Edelgard too, you know that because when you praise her for doing a task well, she smiles differently than she normally does, and for some reason that makes you want to smile too. But now, even though you've shown concern for her, instead of smiling she's showing annoyance. You feel your head spinning around. People are more complicated than you ever thought. Maybe that's why you like to fight so much, because you don't need to understand beyond what your eyes can see.

"Edelgard..."

When you say her name, your voice sounds sad as it leaves your lips. You started talking without really thinking beforehand, but now you don't know if you should say anything else. Yes, you should. But you don't know what to add, because you don't understand what bothered her so much.

Edelgard holds you gaze fiercely, but it suddenly grows softer. The tender lilac of her pupils springs back instantly, like a river that gains back its flow. You see the tiredness pouring out, along with a deep sigh. When she speaks, her voice vibes with honesty in your ears.

"I apologize, my teacher. I-"

Edelgard is interrupted by two figures approaching you energetically.

"Edelgard, Professor! That was a spectacular battle! You both fought exceptionally well!" Dimitri says, with a radiant look of enthusiasm. Even though he wasn’t the one to win in the end, his noble and chivalrous spirit pushes him to see the positive side of the fight, always with kind words on the tip of his tongue.

"Complete and utter defeat... I would hate to make an enemy of you two," Claude says with a tired smile. Unlike Dimitri, who fought for honor, Claude did plan to fight to win the prize Lady Rhea had mentioned. That, and for the glory of seeing his tactics and schemes lead him and his house to a victory he believed to be certain.

"No need to get carried away with praise. I know you both feel we won by a paper-thin margin" Edelgard says, recovering her calm and perfectly nonchalant speech, drawing a small smile of triumph. "And I won't deny it. If we were to fight again, there's no telling who would prevail. What do you think, Professor?"

You ponder the answer for a second. Edelgard is right in what she said: the Black Eagle house won, but not because the other houses made it easy. Claude's tactics and the surprise attack of the Golden Deers in the middle of the battle were a hard blow for your students. And the relentless strength of the Blue Lions under Dimitri's command made them admirable opponents. Even if they’re not directly your students, you also feel the warm feeling of pride bloom again in your stomach.

"The Blue Lion house was very strong," you nod, the reminiscence of their actions still dancing in your mind.

"I am honored to hear you say that," Dimitri gives you a bright smile, like a child being praised for a job well done; though he tries to conceal his emotion with a serious, professional voice. "Still, I must continue to train rigorously."

"In any case, I hope the day never comes when we have to put this experience to use," Claude says, shaking his head at the mere idea of having to fight seriously someday. Something shakes inside you as well when you think about it, an unpleasant sensation that you don't really know how to catalog.

"Agreed," Dimitri nods, his face growing more severe; the heaviness of the thought partially hides the joy of the recent battle like a storm cloud would. "I would hate to know a future in which I'm forced to cross swords with you."

The severity and weight of his words reach you uncomfortably, as if someone had put metal chains around your heart, and it was trying to get rid of them. Looking at the three of them, so young, full of life and illusion to create a better future for Fodland, it breaks your heart to think of the possibility of a real confrontation. It's a feeling you haven't had before, but it squeezes your chest tight like a rope. You don't like it. You shake your head, wishing to push these thoughts away.

"True. Although the battle of the Eagle and Lion was originally named after a war between the Empire and the Kingdom," Edelgard says, looking up at the peaceful blue sky that stretches over your heads endlessly. "But that's all in the past. I'm sure even the name will one day fade from the pages of history."

The idea of a conflict between the three of them causes a deep desolation within you. Yet the idea that together they could build a future of peace and happiness is even greater. During these months that you have been with them, with your students, you have seen with your own eyes the potential that lays in each one of them, with or without a noble title, lands or a historical family name. For some reason, you’re certain that if anyone can bring stability to Fodland, it’s your students. A world where no one has to battle against anyone or fight for survival. You will miss the simplicity of good combats, that much is true, but the reward of peace will be much higher.

"I hope so," you say, your chest overflowing with hope.

"How admirable, teach!" Claude smiles, strands of his brown hair falling disorderly over his mysterious eyes. "On that note, I have a proposition. When we get back to Garreg Mach, let's have a grand feast to break down the walls between our respective houses. And by a 'grand' feast, I mean a fairly regular feast at the dining hall."

"It would be a fine opportunity to get to know each other better," Dimitri nods, gathering joy in his voice again. "Count me in!"

"So be it," Edelgard nods as well, a little smile of complicity dancing on her face. "Let's plan to meet up on the night we return. Is that OK with you, Professor?"

Her violet eyes gleam again when her gaze meets yours, and for a moment you lose the feeling that there is something beyond what your eyes can see. Now, the excitement in her look is real when she turns to you eagerly, and you find no trace of the unemotional mask she usually wears.

A gentle breeze rises again, a breath of clean, pure air that fills your lungs and chest with hope and peace. In the distance, the rest of your students chat with each other and smile carefree. Some raise their hands and wave at you, making gestures for you to come closer. The sun is slowly dropping its position at the top of the celestial vault; it is time to return home together.

"I'm looking forward to it," you say. You feel a pleasant warmth spreading slowly through every corner of your body, and a grin flashes on your face.

"Seeing such a big smile on your face is such a rare gift," Edelgard says, giving you a smile brighter than all the stars you could name. Your head feels light, like a soft cloud, gliding in a lilac sky the color of Edelgard's eyes. "It makes me feel like I can maybe relax a little too."

* * *

The festive dinner isn't as impressive as Claude would’ve wanted. Resources are limited and food can’t be wasted, but still tonight the canteen is much more lively than you've ever seen it before.

Students from all houses sit together to eat, sharing stories of the battle, expectations they had on the way there, and how they felt on the way back. Some are praising each other's tactics, others glorifying their own victories, others teasing each other in a friendly way, and others simply eating. They all have pleased and cheerful looks on their faces. You find that seeing them like that, so excited, makes you too feel a bliss you didn't know you could possibly experience. Your chest feels full in a new but nice way.

But it's also true that you've never been too fond of crowds. Being in large groups requires a lot of social interaction, and you'd rather be training or meditating alone. It's not that you hate being in society, but you're not thrilled with the idea of constantly thinking about what to say, when to say it, and taking into consideration all the different facts surrounding a person. And even less, this many people in such a big meeting. You don't see the need to share so much. Not verbally, at least.

Even so, just being there for dinner with your students fills you with a comfortable feeling inside. You wonder if this is what people recognize as home. You wonder if Garreg Mach is your home now, and you don't dislike the idea. In fact, you hope to spend much more time with your students, watch them grow, and learn a lot alongside them.

Your stream of pleasant thoughts is suddenly cut off when a masculine voice speaks to you from the other side of the table.

"Professor, let me say you're looking stunning tonight," Sylvain says, leaning his elbows on the table with a captivating, sensual smile. "Is it the glow of the night? Or perhaps the pride of victory in your eyes? Your expression is simply beautiful!"

He exclaims, lifting his arms with enthusiasm, holding a fork in one of his hands. It's not the first time Sylvain has tried to flirt with you. In fact, there probably isn't a girl in the monastery that he hasn't already flirted with. You keep eating, indifferent to his efforts to get you to react. Next to him, you hear a deep, heavy sigh.

"Idiot, she can't hear you. She's lost in thought, can't you even tell that much?" Felix says aggressively. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pointing accusatorily at Sylvain, visibly angry. His anger doesn't surprise you the slightest. The only time of day you've ever seen him not annoyed is when he’s training. Wielding his sword is his passion, as much or even more than it is for you. "She's probably reminiscing on her battle techniques this instant."

"Cut it out, you two! Stop bothering the teacher even during dinnertime! You are both insufferable. Are you sure you're bound to become knights one day?" Ingrid sighs. Even though she's the youngest of the three, she's the most responsible and the one who always sort out the mess the other two leave behind. She turns to you with an apologetic look in her green eyes. "Please, forgive them, Professor."

You shake your head. You really don't mind being addressed by your students with such closeness, trust usually makes your job as a teacher easier. Right now they're both arguing, raising their voices slightly, but not enough to keep you from ignoring them. They are two excellent fighters, but they have yet to grow a bit more mature. And you won't be the one to scold them for that, no. Jeralt used to tell you to enjoy being young. It's never seemed like a topic to give a lot of thought to, for you it's just another stage in life; but your father is rarely wrong about anything, so you tend to follow his advice and you let them be young for the time being. They won’t have the luxury of being this carefree when they leave the monastery after all.

Sitting next to you, Lysithea finishes swallowing a sweet bun and licking her lips.

"They're right about one thing, though," she says, wiping her hands with her napkin and looking at you with curiosity. "You've been quieter than usual, if possible, Professor. Is something troubling you?"

You stare at her for a second, silently thinking of her question. Her big pink eyes, far from being sweet or childish, are fixed on you, scrutinizing you inside like an explorer in a cave full of mysteries. The white color of her hair reminds you of Edelgard, the soft waves of her well-kept mane fluttering in the breeze this morning. _Edelgard_. You take a quick look around and discover that he isn't there. Now that you think about it, you haven't seen her since you arrived at Garreg Mach a few hours earlier. Neither are the students who are in the infirmary, but you had already figured that out.

"Everyone is here tonight," you say matter-of-factly. "Though, two of my students are missing."

"Lady Edelgard stated that she had other more important matters to attend at this time," Hubert says in his usual calm but mysterious tone of voice. You're sure there's more to it than he's telling you, but something in his dark black eyes tells you it's better not to push for more information. "She did not allow my presence, which is strange. But Lady Edelgard's wishes are my commands."

"And Ferdinand?" you ask, hoping that the counselor of the future emperor will have more useful facts for you. Hubert's face softens so subtly that, for a moment, you believe it was your imagination.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know, Professor?" Dorothea engages in the conversation with a radiant, playful smile, her elbows resting on the table as she leans over Hubert. "Hubie knows about him too, don't you?"

"I don't think I have understanding. Dorothea, why did you ask the Professor if she, uh, wanted to know?" Petra, sitting next to you to your left, tilts her head in confusion. Like this, with a slightly furrowed brow, she looks adorable. Dorothea is probably thinking the same thing, by how she instantly spun around to look at her, deflecting her attention from Hubert. "The Professor asked of... no, about Ferdinand, is that not right?"

"It is, Petra." Dorothea smiles a little, her voice growing softer each time she addresses the foreign girl. She shrugs her shoulders with a carefree and amused attitude. "Don't give it much thought; I was just trying to spice things up a bit."

"Spice... things? Why would you waste spices putting them on things?"

Petra frowns even more, frustrated that she doesn't understand what's going on. The mark under her right eye looks clearly purple in the strong light of the canteen. Dorothea sighs, shaking her head. She remains silent for a second. You can tell she's considering whether to explain the expression to Petra, or just let it be and have it lose its fun. In the end, she decides on the latter one.

"No, that's not-"

With a loud, blunt force, Hubert lands both hands on the table. Dorothea falls instantly silent, her eyes wide open. Petra also looks at him, surprised.

"I will dispose of you two myself if you do not cease this meaningless conversation this instant."

Hubert says in a threatening, twisted manner, glancing at the former singer's eyes. But Dorothea's fright is short-lived, and soon she leans back on him, completely indifferent.

"My, my! Hubie, don't be so mean!" Dorothea says in a singing voice. "Come on, tell the Professor where Ferdie is!"

"I swear I will end your commoner life with my bare hands if I must, for the sake of the Empire, if you do not end the mockery right now."

Hubert grunts, closing his hands in two fists. You see the frustration radiating in his eyes and something else you don't know how to catalogue. All his threatening appearance fades like foam now that he has Dorothea smiling and totally unaffected clutching to his right arm. The girl, deaf to his threats, looks at you with a bright smile.

"He's at the infirmary because during the battle he took a hit protecting Hubert," she says with a bit more seriousness about her friend's condition. But she immediately gets back the playful aura that bothers the other man so much. "He's been worried sick over Ferdie the whole trip back!"

"I most certainly have not," Hubert denies with his head, as if he was arguing with a wall and these were his last remaining drops of patience.

"Yes, you have!" Dorothea bounces in her seat, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "You haven't taken your eyes off him until he walked in the hospital wig!"

"D-Dorothea?" Bernadetta, who had been eating quietly until now, lifts her head from the plate, her voice trembling. "I think you should stop teasing him. He is beginning to look scary. Scarier than usual... I'm starting to regret coming out of my room for this..."

Then, you get up.

As a teacher, the well-being of all your students is your priority. No matter how much you like it here -and you like it, you have the strange but comforting feeling of belonging to something, something greater than you and your father- you have to make sure that everyone is okay and has arrived safely. So you decide it's time for a walk around the monastery. Plus, there's something you've been worried about since the battle of the Eagle and Lion ended.

"Where is it you going, Professor?" Petra asks, turning to look at you. Her braid falls down her back like a cascade of purple reflections.

"Infirmary," you say, and you walk into the hall of the monastery.

* * *

"I am Ferdinand Von Aegir!" you hear upon entering the infirmary.

"I know! And you need to remain still if you wish for these wounds to be properly healed."

Another voice, this time from a woman, replies with exasperation.

The infirmary, where on a good day there's only Manuela complaining about her petty love life, is very lively today as well. You have only set foot inside, but fragments of the conversations that the students have with each other are already reaching your ears. You have a quick overview around with your gaze, searching for your targets. You find several of your students resting on their beds.

The strident voice of one of them sounds again above the rest of the others.

"Oh, it hurts!' Ferdinand complains, doing his best to stay strong while the nurse changes his bandages. You can't miss seeing some tears at the edge of his eyes, but he seems determined to resist them. Despite the pain, the young nobleman keeps on talking. "But as future head of the house Aegir, I must harden this pain with chivalrous bravery! For the peace of the Empire and Fodland, I shall embrace these injuries as to grow as a knight, stronger than Edelgard herself, the number one of all! I will- AAAAH"

A scream several tones higher than expected breaks the atmosphere of the infirmary. The curve in the nurse's frown deepens, and a chill climbs up your back.

"Stay. Still!”

She says to him, and Ferdinand bows his head with resignation. The nurse continues to change his bandages, grumbling quietly about something you can't hear, though you get an idea. Your main purpose in the infirmary was to talk to him, but you see he's busy. You shift the weight from one leg to another as you wander the room with your eyes again.

"Hey there, Professor!" Hilda greets you with her hand, smiling and trying to get your attention. Your eyes meet her pink, and you take a few steps to get closer to her bed. "Visiting your oh, so wounded, brave students?"

Hilda is lying on the bed with several tight bandages around her left leg, but you don't see a trace of blood. Her pink pigtails are perfectly framing her face, combed and of healthy, bright color. Her nails are perfectly clean and trimmed. It almost seems as if she hasn't just returned from a hard and tiring battle.

"Hello, Professor" Marianne closes the book she was reading to Hilda, sitting next to her in a small wooden chair. She gives you a tiny but gentle smile, as soft as her voice. "Congratulations again on your victory."

"Thank you," you nod. A feeling springs up in you when you see them together; the need to protect them envelops you. To protect all your students. You hate to see them hurt, you realize when you feel a small knot form in your chest. "What happened?"

"To me, you say?" Hilda opens her eyes wide and looks around, as if looking for an answer in the air. A sweet, innocent smile slips across her lips, and the gleam in her eyes shifts when she looks at you again. Ingenious. Expectant. Voracious. "Oh, you know, Professor. Injuries are fairly common in battles. I would know, I've had to tend to my older brother an annoyingly large amount of times! This wouldn't have happened if I stayed behind, I'm sure. So, you know, maybe I shouldn't join the next battle, right?"

You frown. Something in the curve of her overly innocent smile doesn't look genuine to you. You study her face with caution, but Hilda remains impassive, sweet as ever.

"What exactly happened to you?" you insist.

Hilda laughs nervously, toying with one of her pigtails. Shiny pink locks of hair slide through her fingers like water. _I got you_, you think. You start to see cracks in her perfect picture of innocence.

"Didn't I just tell you, Professor? In the midst of the battle, someone's blow must have been harder than intended, and it got me _terribly_ injured."

She pouts, her eyebrows curved upward in an adorable gesture. But adorable things never had much effect on you. You take one, two steps closer to her bed. Marianne tilts her head and looks at you with curiosity.

Since you entered the infirmary, many smells have reached your nose. The smell of antiseptics and alcohol is everywhere, as most of the students here have needed to have their wounds cleaned. There’s also the strong smell of blood, one that you are very familiar with at this point. The smell of tea, some cups still hot are resting on tables next to the students who have asked for them. And that dry smell of freshly changed bandages also fills the atmosphere.

But Hilda doesn't smell of anything like that. She smells of perfume, as if she wasn't part of the microclimate in the infirmary. A sweet and fresh perfume, like the first spring flowers that your father liked to admire for a couple of seconds more than expected, you not knowing why. Sweet, as if Hilda didn't fit in there.

But, most of all, she doesn't smell like blood.

"May I see?" you ask with your typical neutral voice, devoid of any emotion. A simple and innocent question, with many connotations behind it.

"W-What? No! Showing my body to my teacher like that is embarrassing!" The girl's cheeks quickly turn red and she averts her eyes. At first, she looks at Marianne, but the red grows deeper and her gaze drops again, this time to the ground. Still, she tries to keep the carefree sound on her voice. "Plus, you certainly wouldn't want to see such grotesque injury, Professor!"

Before you can answer again, Marianne places the book she was holding on the table next to the girl's bed and gently places a hand on Hilda's own left hand.

"Is it really that bad?" Marianne asks, her voice soft and deeply wounded. Her brown eyes are darkened, like a puppy that finds it's lost and doesn't know how to go back home. "Are you in a lot of pain, Hilda?"

Hilda shakes her head energetically, looking up at the blue-haired girl. Somehow, she has managed to fade the blush from her cheeks; still, the tip of her ears stay a funny pink shade when she speaks to her. Suddenly it feels as if she’s back to her normal carefree self, or so she wants her friend to see, not moving her hand away one bit.

"No, it's okay, Marianne! I mean, not _okay_ okay, but I'll be fine. No need to be overly concerned like that!"

You may have jumped to conclusions, you think. You don't often make mistakes, but seeing the two of them talking makes you want to think you're not right for some reason. Sometimes people do stupid or unusual things, but their reasoning goes beyond what you can understand. Maybe Hilda likes the attention Marianne gives her, and that reason is enough for her.

As a teacher, your job is to correct the actions of your students, to help them be the best version of themselves, staying loyal to the truth. And yet, a thought you hadn't had before bursts into your mind with clarity. Maybe there are more important things than that, like having someone important to you read you a book or gift you with their company.

You make a decision. Not as a teacher, but as someone who’s learning to understand the feelings of others.

"I wouldn't like hearing that you faked an injury again, Hilda. It wouldn't be the first time," you say, faking a serious tone in your voice. But then it disappears, and you let an indulgent little smile settle on your lips for an instant. You don't believe your words, but you know that it's okay to let it slide this time. "But I see this time you're serious about this. And I'm certain you wouldn't want to worry Marianne if it wasn't true. I'll pray for your recovery."

Hilda opens her eyes wide; the pink of her pupils shining with wonder, as if she thought she wasn't going to get away with it. Marianne, after whispering a soft 'thank you' to you, keeps on focusing her attention on Hilda. With nothing more to say, you walk away from them. While you're at it, you can't help but overhear the end of their conversation.

"Geez, quit it with the puppy face, Marianne. Are you really that concerned about me?" Hilda asks, pretending she’s somewhat annoyed, but she steals glances of her with the corner of her eye.

Marianne shakes her head, looking down at her intertwined hands resting on her lap. Her white skin looks even paler under the soft light of the infirmary. Fragile and delicate like a winter flower.

"Unlike me, I know you're strong, so I know you will overcome this and be healthy again. All I can do now is pray to the Goddess for you..." she says, a shy little smile drawing on her face. "Also... I enjoy keeping you company like this."

"My, Marianne! What's with the cute face all of a sudden?" Hilda blushes but doesn't look away. Her pink eyes are locked on the blue-haired girl, studying all her features with great care and fondness. One, two seconds pass without an answer. Hilda clears her throat. "Well, I guess this isn't too bad. I too like spending time with you like this. You may be a walking disaster who doesn't know how to properly clean up, but you surely have a beautiful voice for reading," she smiles.

Marianne picks up the book she left on the table and covers her face. A slight shade of pink blooms under the pale skin of her cheeks, and she looks away with apprehension.

"Please, don't say such embarrassing things, Hilda..."

Her voice sounds shaky and insecure, but Hilda's genuine smile only grows bigger.

"Come on, I'm just teasing!" she says, making a carefree motion with her hand. At this, Marianne lowers the book a bit, and Hilda uses the opportunity to coat her words with honesty. "But it's true, I like it when you read to me. Even if the content of the book is a complete boredom."

It seems Hilda's intention has worked. Marianne, still with a slightly pink color to her face, gives her a small smile full of appreciation.

"S-Shall I continue, then?" the girl with the blue hair asks.

As an answer, Hilda settles into her bed, trying to find a more comfortable position to listen to Marianne, who starts reading her yet another story.

Already far from them, several meters away, you can't help but smile. Yes, you've made the right decision by letting them be. It's something you wouldn't have thought about a year ago, but Garreg Mach makes you see everything in a different light.

Then, you remember why you visited the infirmary in the first place. You're there to talk to Ferdinand and ask him where Edelgard is. You haven't seen her since the end of the battle, and the words you exchanged still leave an uneasy feeling in you. Her silhouette with her back to you in the desert fields of Gronder. You remember the harshness of her gaze, cold and absent like a porcelain mask when she insisted that she didn't need your attention. The frost in her lilac eyes, sharp and distant, like an ice storm gliding through your veins. You shiver.

_Yes_, you tell yourself._ I have to find her and talk to her again_.

When you're about to turn to see if Ferdinand is free, a cheerful, sweet voice reaches your ears.

"Professor, hi!" Annette smiles at you, lying on another bed in the infirmary. You walk up to her and she immediately showers you with a thousand words. "How's the feast going down the dining hall? I'm so sad I had to miss it, I very much wanted to celebrate with everybody, even if my house wasn't the one to win. Oh, but don't get me wrong, I'm happy for your victory! You all sure worked so much, which gives the rest of us the more reasons to train harder!"

Annette is one of the youngest students, both in age and physically; and even if she doesn't belong to your house, the girl tends to look for you in the hallways and talk to you, offers you sweets she’s made and asks you for advice. Her big blue eyes always shine brightly. You think she should get some more rest now and then. Perhaps now that she’s wounded she’ll allow herself a break; though, by her determined expression, you would say that she would return to the battlefield right now if you asked her to.

"There will be more opportunities to have a friendly mock battle," you nod, giving her a little reassurance smile.

"Yes, you're right! And there will be other celebration feasts, right?" she says, barely managing to not get out of bed, bouncing with anticipation. Her little orange ponytails sway up and down in a lively way with each sudden movement of her head. "I was really looking forward to baking sweets with Mercedes and give them to everyone tonight. That would have boosted morale even more!"

"Annette!”

A voice pops her bubble of enthusiasm. Someone has entered the infirmary. The two of you turn towards the person who just talked and who’s now closing in quickly.

"Ashe?" Annette says, tilting her head.

Her eyebrows frown slightly, not knowing why the boy seems so rushed. You’re alert, too, in case there's an emergency. You feel frustrated with yourself for not having brought your sword along with you. Ashe walks up taking big steps.

"People are resting here. You should not come in running," you say in your characteristic serious voice. You're not angry, it's just a fact.

"Oh, yes. I am so sorry, Professor. It won't happen again," Ashe says, opening his eyes wide and making an exaggerated bow as an apology. You shake your head slowly.

"I'm glad to see you're doing fine," you say, studying his fine features.

"Yes, I am! Thank you, Professor," says the boy, just before turning to Annette, who follows your conversation with amusement. Ashe takes something out of the cloth bag he's carrying. Annette and you watch in curiosity as he tends something towards her. "In all honesty, I just came here to give this to Annette," he says, a small blush grows under his pale skin.

He holds a little doll out to the girl. The doll is made of fabric and cotton. The cloth on the head, that serves as hair, is light orange. It has a small blue dress with orange decorations as well. It looks old, as if it had been made quite a few years ago and the doll had been well-used. You tilt your head curiously.

You didn’t have many toys when you were a kid. Sometimes Jeralt would insist on buying you a wooden toy when you passed through a market, but you would refuse. When he brought you one from his missions, you made an effort to play with it and try to have fun, but soon you got tired and lost all interest. You never understood the need to interact with inanimate objects. The figures of soldiers, horses, hoops, dolls and babies never made sense to you, because you didn't understand what they were for. It was quite a mystery to your little mind full of things you didn't understand at the time. However, there was one toy that caught your attention once. Passing through a southern market, you saw a wooden sword. You didn't have to say a word, you never asked Jeralt for anything, but he knew your scarce expressions well, and the sparkle in your gaze when you saw it was enough for him to buy it for you right away. You spent weeks playing with it, but what you really wanted was to learn to use it as your father did. That's how, shortly after, you started your training.

You blink, still looking at the doll. You didn't recall this memory. A warm feel blooms inside of you, like the warmth of the chimney as you returned home to your father after a mission.

Annette smiles widely.

"You found it! Thank you, Ashe! You're my true hero," she giggles, holding it. Despite lying in bed with part of her torso wrapped in bandages, Annette's face shines with happiness.

"There's no need for such praise, really." The pink of the boy's cheeks becomes darker, a carmine shade. He shakes his head vehemently, scratching the back. "I just thought that having her by your side would make you feel better. During your recovery, I mean."

"It sure will!” Annette, oblivious to the boy's nervousness, keeps giving him a radiant smile. "Where did you find it?"

"Cyril had it," he explains, shifting the weight from one leg to the other. His faint green eyes gently look at the girl, a small smile growing on his lips. "Apparently he found it lying on the floor of the dining hall the other night while he was cleaning, and he put it away in hopes that its owner would reclaim it soon enough. I'm happy that it didn't get hopelessly lost."

"You're so smart, I wouldn't have thought of asking Cyril!" Annette opens her eyes wide, the blue of her pupils flashing with admiration. "You're a true gentleman, Ashe."

"N-Not really," his blush grows impossibly darker, and it reaches the tip of his ears; but Annette doesn't notice, now too focused on looking at her doll from all angles, making sure it's okay. The boy's voice quivers slightly. "I'm glad I could be of help. I'll be on my way now; I don't want to bother your rest."

"Oh, you're not a bother. You can stay for a while if you want," the girl says cheerfully, turning to you. "Right, Professor?"

"It should be fine as long as you don't make much of a fuss," you nod.

"Absolutely not!" Ashe shakes his head strongly. Tufts of silvery hair roll freely over his forehead, falling over his eyes when he finds your gaze. "I would hate to disturb anyone, especially here in the infirmary."

"Then it's settled," Annette smiles, raising her two fists a little as a sign of victory. "You'll stay with me for a bit, won't you, Ashe? I was sad that I couldn't attend the feast, but with you here you can at least tell me what's it like, what people are talking about, and how does the food taste! Are there many sweets? I want to know everything!"

Annette's bubbly personality strikes again; she’s getting comfortable in her bed so she can focus all her attention on Ashe. The boy, infected by her energetic friend, nods with a shy smile and takes a seat on a wooden stool next to the bed, playing with his fingers.

"Well then...!" Ashe begins.

You walk away, leaving them their space to talk. The unpleasant knot in your chest when you think about your students getting hurt, despite your great efforts to keep them safe during a battle, is still there. But seeing them talking happily with their classmates, sharing hobbies, or simply enjoying each other's company, gives you a new lightness you haven't experienced before. _It's like two sides of a coin_, you think. Battles always bring pain and sorrow, but if there is someone to comfort us when we return, maybe it is worth it after all.

Without that balance, the world would be in chaos. War would destroy hearts before it destroys people, and no one would have the courage to create a new and better world, a world of peace. Without that balance, without anyone to heal your wounds, there would only be pain.

Like a lightning flash, Edelgard's cold, lilac eyes come back to your mind. You wonder, all of a sudden, if perhaps what she conceals behind her mask is neither anger nor rage. Perhaps it is fear, loneliness, or insecurity. Perhaps her balance isn’t equilibrated. Maybe she needs someone to heal her.

You shake your head, full of confused thoughts. You've never been good at reading people, maybe you're giving it too much thought, reading too much into it. Feelings are still unfamiliar and strange to you. _How can I comfort someone if I still can't name the feelings that swirl inside of me_? You ask yourself. Perhaps the only thing you're really good at is wielding your sword.

The sword. _Oh_, you think, and something clicks in your mind. You remember having your knees covered in blood. You remember falling to the ground over and over again. The grave sound of Jeralt's laughter in your ears. The blow of a wooden sword on your head. Bruises, cuts and scabs. _It’s true_, you think. _Once I wasn’t good with the sword either_. Like your students, you had to learn from scratch. You question whether it will be the same with emotions.

You wonder if Edelgard is also troubled by the feelings in her chest, if they’re also as complicated as yours.

You walk across the infirmary again, heading for Ferdinand once more.

"I am Ferdinand Von Aegir!" you hear upon getting closer to the bed where he's resting. His forehead is pearly with sweat, but his expression is firm. "These wounds will most surely leave scars over my immaculate body, but as a future knight, I must nurture my bravery by acknowledging these marks upon my skin and let them be reminders of my uncountable victories on the battlefield!"

"I'm glad to see you're doing fine, Ferdinand," you nod at him. The boy turns when he hears your voice, his eyes wide open with surprise. When he recognizes you, his body relaxes. "I heard you protected Hubert."

"You must be right, Professor!" A smile blooms on his lips with pride. He places a hand on his chest with a solemn grin and bright eyes. "Claude's certain arrows aimed undoubtedly for Hubert. Although I, as future knight and vassal of the Empire, couldn't help but run into his rescue, offering my body and letting the Goddess' will guide those arrows into my own flesh!"

"You were very brave," you say, your expression turning into a displeased frown. Your eyebrows are raised slightly with concern. You look for the right words. Having spent several months as his teacher, you know that if you talk to him like a future knight he will probably pay more attention to you. "But you should not jump into danger at every chance you have. You could have been seriously injured. Caring for your own wellbeing is one of the most important tasks a knight has to uphold."

"But, Professor!"

Ferdinand complains, hands raised, frustration flowing from his brown eyes persistently. You deny with your head, folding your arms across your chest. You repeat the words that your father has told you so much over the years.

"If your body and mind are not in their best shape, you won't be able to protect anyone." Without realizing it, the look you give the boy is harder than you intended. You soften your gaze, hoping it's enough. You wouldn't want there to be a next time, you’d hate to see him getting a worse injury. And also, you’re sure that Manuela would most likely cut off your head. "Is that the kind of knight you wish to become?"

Thanks to the Goddess, Ferdinand's expression changes, and suddenly he looks at you with eyes of gleaming admiration.

"Oh! I understand your point now! Of course, how could I have been so blind?" He nods profusely, frowning with a thoughtful gesture, as if wanting to let your words sink in and burn them into his noble soul. In an outburst of effusiveness, Ferdinand takes your hand between his own. "You're certainly correct, Professor. I, as future head of house Aegir, solemnly swear to pay close attention to my own health, as doing so will provide me with enough strength to protect those around me! Thank you very much!"

You nod, satisfied, as you take your hand away from his. At least, you no longer have to worry about him throwing himself at any danger he encounters, in the name of honor or some noble blunder like that. Truth be told, you don't quite understand his way of thinking since for you the titles and customs of high nobility have been nothing more than faraway chit-chat. Your life is focused on actions, and your honor is your ability to survive. You've never needed anything else. Even so, as a teacher, you have to learn to see things in a new light that you hadn't considered before. You don't share his noble way of seeing reality, but if that's what motivates your student to grow and become stronger, then you'll be there to support him.

You turn on your heels, ready to leave. Before you walk more than two steps away, Ferdinand's voice calls for your attention again.

"Professor, leaving already? Is there anywhere you have to be?" he says, looking at you with curiosity.

You shake your head. You don't have an exact place to go, there's just someone you have to find. You've been gathering questions and thoughts all night, and it's time to face the epicenter of your concern. Not knowing where she is isn't a problem. For some reason, you know you could find her anywhere in Fodland.

"I'm looking for Edelgard," you simply say.

"I see. In that case, allow me to repay your wisdom with information of my own," he says, dropping his heartfelt tone for a calmer, more formal voice. He folds his hands on his lap. "I last saw her on training grounds before coming here myself. Although I do not know if she remains there. Best of luck finding her, Professor."

"Thank you," you nod.

* * *

The training grounds are always full of people. Not as crowded as the canteen, but there are always one or two groups of people training. Most days they are the same, students who enjoy exercising and getting stronger little by little, even after class hours. Garreg Mach is a monastery, but it's also a school that trains young soldiers, so it's no surprise that there's always someone in this square. The sound of weapons being wielded, the vibration in the air of metal colliding with metal, the brisk noise of quick steps on the stone floor, the heavy breathing of those who are training, the dust hovering in the air, and often the smell of sweat, always fill your nostrils as you enter the wide enclosure. Today, however, the clearest and most overwhelming silence reigns. The place even seems larger than it normally is, lonely under the moonlight.

In the distance, at the end of the chamber where the equipment wardrobes are, you see a single figure, a dark silhouette cut out in the dim light. You approach with silent steps.

"Edelgard," you say. "Training this late?"

"Professor!" Edelgard gasps, eyes wide open with surprise. She has her right hand over her heart, trying to calm her sudden fast breathing. In her other hand, she holds tightly a steel axe. You look at her in amusement, but her voice sounds far from cheerful. "I beg of you, do not sneak up on me like that. I nearly had my heart bursting through my chest!"

Her piercing lilac eyes study your features closely, jumping from one eye to the other. You shake your head slightly, long strands of your hair gently brushing against your cheeks.

"I didn't mean to scare you," you say. As she recognizes you, the initial surprise in Edelgard's eyes disappears, and it’s replaced by a softness that holds your gaze without fear or jolt, but with slight tenderness.

"Scare... No, you did not scare me. I doubt that you could scare me in any sense, my teacher," her words are simple and clear, but hidden under her voice you uncover a softness that isn't normally there. You keep your eyes on her, the lilac of her pupils pouring into you, making you feel a flare of warmth inside you that almost startles you. You’re about to reply, but the words cling to the tip of your tongue. As fast as it has appeared, Edelgard retrieves a completely neutral voice, and the spell is broken. "I was just surprised by hearing your voice so close with no further notice. I must have been lost deep in my thoughts."

She says, shaking her head and refocusing her attention on the axe she still holds in her hand. From a backside pocket, she takes out a cloth and starts cleaning its surface with careful expression. You say nothing, and the seconds in silence lengthen between the two of you. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, you just observe the graceful movements of the princess, but you still know you have to say something. After all, you have searched for her in the monastery with a very uncharacteristic feeling of unease in you.

"What were you doing?" you ask, still looking at the half-polished axe she is holding.

"I volunteered for organizing the weaponry," Edelgard says in a neutral voice, looking around. You also look around, checking if someone has entered the grounds, but there’s no one besides the two of you. You only hear the sound of the celebration in the canteen, several pairs of exalted voices blending together. After a pause, the princess's voice almost surprises you. "You must have been concerned about me not joining the rest of the house at the canteen, I apologize. I must confess I do not find extremely exciting the concept of celebrations."

You nod. _It only makes sense_, you think. As princess and heiress to the crown of Adrestia, Edelgard must have been in the position of having to attend a multitude of formal events. You've only been in a few, so few that you could count them on one hand, along with your father in some special mission. You remember the tension in the air, the lack of authenticity and, especially, the boredom. While the canteen feast should be different, they are her classmates and your students, you respect that the girl prefers the comfortable company of silence. Even so, the feeling of belonging that settled in your chest a while before when you were having dinner with your students hasn’t disappeared yet. Edelgard should feel that warmth as well. Perhaps you can convince her to go with you.

"Everyone deserves to rest after a victory," you say, taking the axe off her hands. Edelgard looks at you with an expression impossible to read. "You too, Edelgard. You worked harder than anyone."

It's true. All the students in your class, and you're proud to think about it, are exceptional and hard-working. But Edelgard always goes the extra mile, bordering on her own limit at times. As if wanting to cross it and grow stronger and stronger, fueled by a need you ignore the root of. She’s never shown weakness or exhaustion in front of you; or in front of anyone, for that matter. But your work as a mercenary during so many years lets you see things that others fail to see, the invisible imprint left by overexertion on a person. And you would hate for Edelgard to burn herself that way.

Even so, it seems that your words don't have the calming effect you expected. More than feeling invited to celebrate victory and rest, Edelgard's huffs is bothered.

"You say that as if there existed another path for me to trail," she says, shaking her head. She raises her hand to retrieve the axe you still hold securely. The lilac in her eyes is cold and distant again, but this time not as fierce as this morning. They are dull, as if the exhaustion of having accepted something that’s inevitable weighed upon them. Her voice sounds hollow. "This is the life that has been entrusted to me. I bear the responsibility of gaining the strength necessary to change this world for the better. There is no time for me to rest now."

"I don't believe what you're saying is right," you shake your head, taking a step back and increasing the grip on the axe. There’s no such thing as a predefined future. We create our future stone by stone, like a lengthy road that can turn and diverge endlessly, full of possibilities. The idea overwhelms you, but there are people who find comfort in it. Edelgard is not one of them. You learn that, for the princess, there is only one route, and she has to walk it with enough strength to hold her head high. Within you grows the desperate need to break with these schemes, a burst of frustration that beats in your chest. The idea of seeing Edelgard consumed by her own suicidal actions shakes you like a storm. And you have to prevent it, find the right words. "If you continue down this road of excessive self-inserted pressure, you will burn yourself out, Edelgard."

Edelgard takes a step toward you, trying to get to the axe again. Having become a symbol of your different points of view, you take a step away, clutching at it. She takes another step closer, and then another, until she’s dangerously close to you. Her eyes glow in the clear, light moonlight, giving her an almost menacing appearance. Of course, you don’t feel the slightest threat to yourself, but rather a feeling of unease squeezing your chest when you finally understand what’s hidden behind her well-kept porcelain mask.

Edelgard sounds sharp and severe, but her words echo sadly in the silence of the night, her breath practically brushing against your neck.

"If I must, then I shall burn in the crimson flames."

Empty, devoid of emotion. Her gaze pierces yours mercilessly, burning. A look so determined, but, at the same time, it seems on the verge of exploding. In flames, in tears, in frustration, in absolute silence, you don't know too well.

You feel your throat dry when you try to speak, but anyway you don't find any words that can convey the mixture of thoughts that so uncharacteristically entangle your mind.

"Edelgard-"

You only manage to say her name. Your voice, normally devoid of any emotion, resounds in the small space that separates you colored with all those emotions that you don't know how to name or sort lately. The knot in your chest tightens, and you seek something in her eyes to deny what you think you have seen in her flames inside.

Under all that hellish desire to get stronger, Edelgard-

A hand with a white glove draws closer to you fast, trying to take away the weapon you still hold loosely in one hand. Your reflexes act before you process anything, and you raise your arm out of reach, above your heads. Edelgard takes another step toward you with a frown, determined to get the axe out of your hands, following your motion with her own arm.

Then her expression changes all of a sudden, and you see the pain cross her face like a flash of lightning. She immediately lowers her arm, holding it tightly to her chest. She takes a step back.

"Edelgard..." having turned completely irrelevant, you drop the axe on the floor behind you, causing a metallic sound to spread throughout the training grounds as it collides with the stone ground. You get closer to her, your eyebrows slightly raised with concern. You're not sure what to say, her sharp words still burn in the back of your mind. Anyway, you've never been too good with words. You decide to gently place a hand on her shoulder. Your voice sounds urgent in your ears. "Are you alright?"

She moves back, avoiding your contact. Your hand falls to your side.

"I stated it before, but if I must, I'll repeat my words," Edelgard no longer sounds imposing or solemn, simply sad, tired. She stares at the ground, at the smooth rocks worn out by the passing years beneath the space between your feet. In this position, you can't see what kind of face she has. You start clenching your fists before you know it. "I appreciate your concern, my teacher. However, I do not need you hovering around me as if I was a helpless child. I do not wish for your care, and I certainly do not need your sympathy. I'll be taking my leave now."

Edelgard starts turning. You snap.

"No, you won't," you say, a raw voice scraping your throat. You feel the frustration bubbling inside you, and something else you don't understand. An exasperating need to fight against the one who planted these destructive ideas inside the princess's head, and that are slowly draining her vision of herself. It's something you've never felt before, and its intensity worries you. You feel your nails sticking to the palms of your hands.

Her pride is above anything else. Her future as the Emperor of Adrestia is more important to her than her happiness, than her own health.

And you’re desperate to heal her.

"I beg your pardon?" Edelgard looks at you with her big eyes full of surprise. By the abruptness of your words or by the uncharacteristic outburst in you, you wouldn't know.

"You may not need my care nor my sympathy, but you do have them," you say, focusing your serious gaze on her. Little by little, you unravel the tangle of ideas in your head and you find a single thread to follow, a waterfall of words that sound heavy when they come out of your lips. "You will be the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire one day. But here in Garreg Mach you are a mere student. You are _my_ student. And your wellbeing is my responsibility," you say matter-of-factly. You don't mean to hurt, just remind her of something she needs to know. Your persistence is not baseless; it is your duty and something you must preserve. You intend to protect them, all your students. It's an unwritten contract between them and you, something you've promised yourself to keep even if it costs you your life. But, looking into Edelgard's sad eyes, you understand that the last thing she needs is more harshness. Your words don't change, but you soften the tone this time. "You have them, my care and my sympathy."

You repeat the message, hoping that the unknown emotion growing in your chest will reach her. When Edelgard looks at you, the tips of your fingers twitch.

"I do not phantom what you would want me to respond to that, Professor."

Again, the impenetrable mask of nonchalance comes back to the girl's face, much like your own. A small sting of ache pops between your temples. The situation is growing more and more complicated when you just wanted to know what it was that made her look so distant and evasive. You've never liked situations that are difficult to read, so you tend not to get involved in anyone's personal affairs. You have never needed to do it, to make an effort to understand what people don't want to say. Never, until now. That the knot in your chest keeps tensing like a tight rope, leading you to the apex of a fall that's too high.

"Why do you refuse so badly to go to the infirmary?" You shake your head, trying to make the irritating headache that has started to build up disappear. You sigh deeply. You need clear answers, so you point your hand at her, as if it were something obvious to see. "You're clearly hurt. I can see that now."

"I am fine," Edelgard, in turn, doesn't seem to want to work with you. The future Emperor of Adrestia has sculpted over the years an iron tenacity that’s ending your patience. "I simply have other more important matters to attend-"

"What could possibly be more important than your own health?" you insist, not caring about the roughness in your voice.

"What is it you wish to achieve now, Professor?" She pierces through you with her lilac eyes. _Edelgard knows how to bite back, too_. "What are you trying to achieve with all this questioning? Is it really professional of you to act this overly insistent over a topic that your student clearly wishes to not discuss?"

Her stance is defensive. You've been in so many fights that it's unmistakable for you. Arms crossed over her chest, chin high and eyes looking down meeting yours, frown slightly furrowed, and that aura of stoicism that seems to shout 'don't push, don't keep pushing, you won’t like what you’ll see on the other side'.

_This conversation is stupid_. The thought comes to you briefly, as if there were no more absolute truth in the world. This whole situation is absurd. Your only goal when you came looking for her was to know why she was absent, why she’d behaved so strangely this morning. And now that you know she's hurt, every fiber of your body is vibrating and pushing you to heal her, to do something. But here you are, having an argument that goes nowhere, and that just makes Edelgard's eyes get sadder and sadder under all the anger she shows. You've never been good at understanding emotions, that may be true, but even you see that's not normal. None of this is. As a mercenary, you have learned and proven yourself hundreds of times that survival is the first and most important priority. But for Edelgard, there’s something even more important than that, that's pushing her to this absurd limit with you. Something so big that it must be hidden even from your eyes.

Something clicks in your head, and the tangles in your head suddenly disappear, like undone by the breeze. The moonlight seems to shine brighter.

Despite her passive-aggressive responses, Edelgard is not angry. She has no reason to be. You look in your immediate memory for something you may have done wrong but you find nothing, because you know it’s not that. All the anger and arrogance she’s showing you is just another mask, you understand. One more complicated to see. But you've finally found it.

Now you just have to pierce through it to get to her.

"Don't," you shake your head slowly, walking one step towards her. "Don't do this, Edelgard."

"Do what, now?" she says, with a wry smile on her face. "State the obvious?"

"Don't push me away," you say, your voice a mere whisper, soft and sincere as the spring air. You take another step closer, your gaze resting on her confused lilac eyes. If she's not going to come to you, then you're going to melt the frost that covers the road leading to her truth little by little. You try to find the right words, tiptoeing on ice. "I understand your need for secrecy, and I respect that. But you don't have the need for putting up a fight against me. I am your Professor, but I'm also... your friend."

_You can rely on me_, you want to say, but any more words you wished to say die in your throat.

Little by little, you see her expression change. She lowers her arms until they rest next to her body, slowly drops her head and closes her eyes for a second.

You wait, expectantly, to see what effect your words have had on her this time. You don't realize you're holding your breath until you release it all at once, when Edelgard looks up again, meeting your gaze with glassy eyes.

"I may... have been excessively blunt with my assumptions. Please, forgive me, my teacher. I know you hold nothing but good intentions behind those words."

Adrestia's future emperor looks dimmer, like a fire that fades with the rain and leaves only the ashes and smoke behind. You wonder how long Edelgard has been burning inside.

After your effort with words, trying to find the right ones to form a path that leads to her, you’re also tired. The girl is holding your stare, this time she’s not averting it. _If this were a war_, you think, _and Edelgard was wearing armor, I’m sure right now I’d be seeing cracks in the metal of her skin_.

"What is truly happening, Edelgard?" you ask, wishing for the truth.

Her hair moves in the air, light and soft, as Edelgard looks up at the lonely moon. Silky white threads drifted by the wind, slipping over each other and all falling untidy over her back, falling like a snowfall almost up to her waist. In contrast, the small cape on her left shoulder looks bright red, like drenched in blood.

A second passes without either breaking the silence. Then it is two, three, four seconds. You only hear the background noise of the feast in the canteen, that continues tirelessly without the two of you. Behind you, the metal axe lies on the floor, forgotten.

When Edelgard speaks, you feel as if she's was a different person, not the upset girl you've been talking to a few moments ago. Her voice is soft but firm, the message of her words weighs on you like an iron pendant.

"Is it safe to assume you remember what I confided to you a few weeks ago? About the... changes I was forced through?"

Your mind travels back until a few weeks ago. You remember the sound of your footsteps in the complete silence of the hallway, the rhythmic colliding of your shoes with the stone of the monastery floor when you returned to your room to finish the day. Then, another sound pierced the night and made the hair on your neck bristle. Someone was suffering, babbling words amidst muffled sobs. When you walked into her room, the Edelgard who met you wasn't the one you were used to seeing, the one you're all used to. Her eyes were swollen, and her hair far from its usual meticulous care. Yet she had the courage to open up to you and tell you of her darkest nightmares.

You remember what she told you, the atrocities those dark magi tormented her and her siblings with, the gloom in her eyes as she relived every single second of it.

"I do," you nod.

"Those experiments, the possibility of awakening new crests on us, had a high price. Apparently, those people agreed on forcing us to pay for them against our will. Because of that, many of my older siblings lost their lives immediately. They were the lucky ones." Edelgard's eyes are fixed on the sky that coats your heads, but her mind is much farther away, in a dark room that she managed to escape a long time ago but that, somehow, still holds her prisoner. "Others suffered ungodly injuries, wounds and lacerations that ultimately took their lives or their sanity away. I was the only survivor of that vile massacre."

Your arm hair is bristly thinking about what that must have been like. You see in her face that Edelgard is suffering all over again as she tells you. The misery of her siblings. Their sacrifice. Their cries in the back of her head.

_Since then_, you understand. Since then Edelgard has been bearing the weight of all that was taken from her, the dreams and hopes of the shadows that haunt her, the bright future that was ripped from her innocent hands, the footprints on a lengthy path that remained half-finished. She will inevitably inherit an empire, placing on her head the heaviest crown of all, carrying the weight of a bloodstained past. Edelgard Von Hresvelg, Emperor of Adrestia.

Seeing her like this, a few centimeters from you and bathed under the pale moonlight, you see the girl under that title. You see her eyes clouded by the sorrow of a memory that can never heal.

_You don't have to do this_, you want to tell her, but her voice sounds again in the quiet of the night, and you shiver.

"Because of that, my body is covered with scars."

She says, raising one hand in the small space that separates you, and slowly taking off one of the white gloves she wears at all times. Her hand is covered with scars. The palm, the back and the phalanges of the fingers are dotted with small darker marks that you immediately recognize as scars. Scars are nothing foreign to you, not at all. But seeing those marks on her light skin wakes a new feeling flaring up in your chest, something you immediately call powerlessness. At this point, there’s nothing you can do to change her past, but maybe there is a way to erase that grief from her eyes. You wonder if there are any magic words you could say.

In the end, you decide to stretch out your own hand slowly and hold hers with care.

Edelgard flinches a little by the sudden contact and looks at you intensely, first at you and then at your hand; but seeing you do nothing else, she relaxes. She doesn't take her hand away, but leaves it resting under yours, warmer. The tips of your fingers tingle with electricity, a feeling similar to when you cast a spell and white magic flows through you.

"They mainly cover a large proportion of my skin. The worst, or rather, the most affected part is my chest," she says, placing her other hand over her heart. "Manuela has knowledge about this. About the scars. As does Hubert too, for obvious reasons, given that he was raised alongside me and therefore witnessed my changes. As well as you do now, my teacher. However, no one else in Garreg Mach knows."

As she speaks, her voice grows smaller and smaller, as if it were physically hard for her to continue speaking. Her phrase ends and her gaze is placed on your hands. Or, rather, in the scars that cover her skin. A timeless reminder of everything that fills her nightmares. But at the same time, of all the reasons she has to keep moving forward.

Finally, you understand. Her words have been the last piece of a puzzle that has troubled you since this morning. A puzzle of unclear pieces, strange glances and half-hearted conversations. But finally, you think you understand what is happening. And it's so simple that you wonder why you haven't thought about it before.

"Is this the reason why you refuse to go to the infirmary?" You blink several times, letting the solved mystery dispel the heaviness of the air. Without realizing it you drop your hand, loosing contact with Edelgard. "Because Manuela is off service and so wouldn't be able to attend to you herself?"

Edelgard will be Adrestia's emperor someday, but at the moment she's just a young girl. And since she's always wearing white gloves, you guess her scars are something she tries to hide with all her might. And since Manuela is gone, it would have to be someone else to heal her wounds. You frown slightly. You don't quite understand why she is so apprehensive, it is normal to have scars when you fight and live through difficult situations. You yourself have cuts and marks all over your skin.

"That is right," Edelgard sighs, taking up a formal stance in front of you. "Please, let me apologize again for my sudden outburst. I was not fair to gush about my responsibilities with you. For some reason, I feel as if I lacked a filter whenever I speak with you. I am still figuring out whether that is a good or a bad thing."

The smile she gives you is a sad one, but it still makes you feel much better. The uneasy feeling that clutched your chest is lighter when you see it, like a small ray of unexpected light. You nod, feeling lighter. You open your mouth without thinking.

"I would appreciate it if the day comes when you could talk to me without a need for any filter at all," you say, and feel the curves of your lips rise and form a genuine smile. Not one of your smirks or when you smile with your eyes, but a real smile. It's something you don't do often, but the feeling that goes with it is nice and cozy.

Certainly, as a teacher you have been working hard to give your students everything they expect of you. You have trained them, taught them tactics and guided them to victory. But you've been surprised to see that instead of expecting less from you as they got stronger, your students have come closer to you. They seek you out at lunchtime, ask you for advice, and they seem to glow whenever you give them praises. Little by little, you have discovered that everyone needs something special beyond basic training. Bernadetta needs the confidence to open up, Linhardt a reason to work hard, Caspar challenges to surpass himself, Dorothea a dream to fight for...

But Edelgard, you discover while you give her a smile, she only needs someone genuine, with who she can speak without filters. A friend.

"That... would surely be lovely," Edelgard gives you a little smile, almost shy. Under the pale skin of her cheeks, a slight shade of red blooms. It reminds you of autumn poppies.

You hesitate for a moment.

"Would it be okay if-“

"Professor! There you are!" A voice bursts into the training grounds and breaks the bubble of intimacy that was surrounding both of you.

You turn to the urgency of the voice and discover Mercedes running to you with a worried face.

"Caspar and Raphael were having an unsupervised contest on who could eat the more pastries in ten minutes, and now Caspar is choking!"

You nod, and your legs respond before you can even think of articulating an apology. You're rushing to the canteen, leaving both Edelgard and Mercedes behind.

That conversation would have to wait.

* * *

About an hour later, you find yourself gently knocking on Edelgard's bedroom door.

After arriving at the canteen and avoiding the imminent death of one of your students, the professors decided it was time to end the festivities. It had been a long day full of emotions, most of them positive, but the party had reached a delicately dangerous point, and you weren't willing to give Caspar another chance to start another mindless contest. So, after making sure everyone was okay and that the blue-haired boy was breathing properly, you instructed all the students to go back to their rooms. After all, the next morning they have classes to attend. You, on your part, have stayed helping in the canteen to gather the remaining leftover of the celebration. When you finished, you stretched your back and heard it cracking with a satisfying pop. Your body cried out for you to retire to rest as well, but you still have something to do before you can relax. You went back to the training grounds, but there was no sign of Edelgard there, so you went to the most obvious place: her room.

But now that you're here, wrapped in the silence of the night that whistles in your ears, you wonder if it really is a good idea after all. It is true that at the end of your conversation she had been more receptive and had even smiled, but from there to letting you into her room when the time isn’t the most appropriate one, there’s a difference. The hair on your neck bristles at the thought of what Lady Rhea might do to you if she saw you right now. You trust your keen hearing, you would know if anyone came close even before that person could see you. Even so, something in all of this makes you not entirely at ease. You wonder if Edelgard will consider this to be something beyond the limits you’re allowed, to overstep her privacy this way. If that will keep you from achieving your goal. You shake your head, getting rid of these thoughts. The well-being of your students is above any other rule. As simple as that.

The heavy sound of the door opening interrupts your thinking. In front of you opens a narrow space between the door and the hardwood wall, not big enough to see the inside of the room.

"Professor?" Edelgard says, not peeking outside. Her voice sounds tired. "Is everything alright?"

You nod. Then you realize that from behind the door she can't see you, and you clear your throat.

"May I come in?" You ask with your usual neutral tone. Edelgard doesn't reply immediately, so you guess she's hesitating. You add a soft "Please?"

One, two seconds pass, and the only answer you get is the cold silence of this long corridor. You wait patiently without moving, your eyes fixed on the door half-open in front of you.

Finally, it opens wide enough for you to pass. When you come in, you close it behind you. It takes you a few seconds to get used to the darkness of the room, with less light than the hallway as it has fewer windows and moonlight is not exactly a very bright source of light. You blink several times.

Edelgard looks at you, spectant. She’s standing a meter and a half away, and by her posture, you take on her confusion and the uncomfortable of the situation, at least for her. She’s still wearing the uniform, the golden ornaments jutting out faintly in the dark; but her hair is messily falling over her shoulders, without her usual braids on the sides. And she’s not wearing the little red cape on her shoulder or the shoes either. It seems like she was in the middle of changing into her sleepwear.

"I was certain that everybody had been dismissed for the day," she shakes her head lightly, still looking at you with confusion and alert. "Is there any emergency? Do I need to prepare myself for battle?"

"No, everything is fine," you say, your voice neutral.

You look around, taking in the small details of her room. You have entered before, but you didn't give it much attention at that time. Everything is perfectly tidy, nothing is out of place. On the desk are the books you recognize of class and papers with tactical schemes. Everything is so neat that it’s certainly impersonal. Not that your room is very different, you have the most basic and necessary things to start the day, but your father always used to tell you that it lacked a touch to make it really yours. Edelgard's room is the same, impersonal. If she were to disappear tomorrow, there would be nothing in this room to tell that she was ever here. For some reason, this thought makes you sad.

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your late visit, my teacher?" She says, and your attention suddenly turns to her violet gaze. She's testing you with her eyes.

_It's true, I haven't told her what I've come to do yet_, you think. You went in there with just one purpose. But, because of the way she reacted before to your help offerings, you doubt whether telling her directly will be productive. You can imagine the most blunt denial on her pursed lips, her elusive mask covering her beautiful features again. You've never been good at words, so you think it’s best if you show it to her.

You tend to her the first aid kid you brought with you from the infirmary before coming here, leaving the box hanging in the air in the space between the two of you. Edelgard looks at it, opening her eyes wider, paying attention to it for the first time. She says nothing.

"Would it be okay if I did it?" you ask bluntly. "If I took care of your wounds?"

The future Empress of Adrestia looks at you as if you had said something crazy. The moon steals lilac gleams from her eyes, pierced by a halo of nerves that lasts an instant, like a gust of wind in a field of lilies. Maybe it's just your mind. You wait patiently for her answer.

"Professor, I..." She says, finally. As if the weight of her next words was too much for her, she averts her eyes away from yours. She shakes her head very slightly. "Don't think that would be necessary."

Her statement floats in the air, and you take in her words. Since you talked to her in the training grounds until now, Edelgard has had plenty of chances to take care of her wounds on her own. _It's the logical thing to do_, you think. If you didn't want anyone to see them, you would take care of them alone. So, your presence there is meaningless. You have no more reason to stay in her room at this time of night. You don't need to think any more about the boundaries you're crossing with her.

"You have already taken care of them, I see," you nod in understanding, your face blank as ever.

You turn to leave the room, first aid kit carefully grasped in your hands. Reckless locks of hair tickle your neck as you turn away. But your feet stop, glued to the ground when Edelgard's voice tears again the air that draws you apart.

"In all honesty, I have not found the time to properly do so yet," with the corner of your eye, you see the princess shaking her head, her eyes fixed on your back. "Beyond covering them with some bandages, that is."

You turn again, her lilac gaze finding its way into your eyes like two polarized magnets. You nod again, grasping this new information. It sounds like you still have a goal to fulfill there. Your rest will have to wait.

"In that case, allow me to tend to them for you," you say, your voice ringing in your ears sweeter than you expected. Since you're here, that would be the most sensible outcome. The fastest, too. If they are handled rightly and effectively, they will take less time to heal, and she will be able to give her best again in your classes. That's your only mission right now.

Still, Edelgard says no with her head.

"I wholeheartedly appreciate your dedication, my teacher. However, I have certainty that this is something I must do on my own."

The rehearsed serenity comes back to her voice, an armor that again blocks your view of what lies beyond. You tilt your head, your eyebrows rising slightly in a somewhat furrowed brow as you stare at her. You don't understand. It is a plain and simple thought; since you are there, the most sensible thing would be for her to let you help. Again, Edelgard is hiding from you. You stand there idly in front of her. Silently, you study her face, not knowing what you should say. You don't want to leave, but again you feel that your toes are on a red line telling you that this is too far.

The silence grows uncomfortably.

"You may take your leave now," she insists, crossing her arms over her chest with a stern look on her face.

You shake your head. Since you've come this far, backing out doesn't seem productive. At this point, whatever Lady Rhea or whoever may think doesn't have a place in your mind anymore. You only see Edelgard's conflicted expression, and your feet refuse to move. Something tugs in your chest, a soft emotion that spreads through your body, your limbs. Your fingers feel light.

"Your health and wellbeing are my responsibility." _Let me help you_, you wish to say, but your words die in your pursed lips.

"My, Professor," Edelgard sighs, frowning slightly. "I comprehend the need for your stubbornness on the battlefield. What I do not understand is your insistence regarding this matter. Do you fail to see that I'm fully capable of caring for myself?"

"I know you are," you say, shaking your head. Edelgard is independent, you've always known that much, everyone knows it. It's just the opposite of what blooms in your chest with concern. Words sprout from you tenderly. "But being able to do something on your own does not mean you have to always do it alone."

Edelgard bites her lip, looking at your eyes insistently, as if fighting an internal battle you can't be a part of. She says nothing, and the seconds lengthen endlessly. Your mouth feels dry.

"Why do you despise so much the idea of me tending to you?" Finally, you dare to ask, breaking the silence of ice. Then you realize the bluntness of your words, and you soften your tone. "If you really wish for me to leave, then I shall do so with no more hesitation."

You resign yourself. If her words haven't been enough, her silence has. It sounded louder and it reached you deeper. The cold frost that spreads in the space that keeps you apart seems unbridgeable to you. And, in the end, you resign yourself. There are boundaries that shouldn't be trespassed, and you fear you might have come too far. Despite the silence, your emotions roar with an intensity you don't remember experiencing. You can't tell one from the other, where they start and where they end, or what each holds. You only know that your chest feels tight, and that you wish you could reach out and change her mind with the touch of your hand on her cheek. The hefty weight of your impotence leaks from your lips in a slight sigh. You wish for the emotions that flood within your heart to reach her somehow.

But, perhaps, you should leave now.

"I don't."

She says, as quietly as a whisper, when you were about to turn around and walk through the door. A soft sound, so light that you think maybe it was just your imagination.

"You don't?" you mirror, sounding confused.

You tilt your head, looking at her with intensity. Her gaze is placed on a lost corner of the room, and the strands of white hair are blurred with the reflections of the moonlight, making it impossible to guess her expression.

When she speaks again, her voice sounds clear as the night sky beyond the window.

"I do not wish for you to leave yet, my teacher," she says.

A wave of warmth spreads through your chest the moment her words reach your ears. A familiar yet new warmth. Like the summer breeze that brushes your cheeks as the season changes. Sunbeams bathing a field of flowers, the feeling blooms inside you and it tingles beneath your skin. There's hope again.

You wait.

"Do you recall what I said to you earlier in the training grounds, Professor?"

Edelgard looks up, finding you again. Her pupils flutter over you with a new glow, one that is unfamiliar, darker. You nod slowly.

"Out of every single person that here at Garreg Mach that has an impact in my life, significant or not, only Manuela, Hubert and you have knowledge of the marks that cover my body," she says. Her voice is colored with her usual calm and serenity, claiming that the situation is completely under her control. Yet you see the tips of her fingers shaking slightly. "However, just Manuela, and out of raw necessity, has ever found the need to... touch them."

Her voice grows quiet. Before even finishing the sentence, Edelgard has drawn her lilac eyes away from you, as if it were too much for her to glimpse your reaction directly as you understand everything. Still, such reaction never happens. You keep your face unmoved as always, eyes fixed on the slight trembling of her fingers. _A crack in her metal armor. A crack that she is allowing you to see._

With nothing more to say, the future Empress of Adrestia waits for an answer. _It's a silent plea_, you think. Without the need for more words, you finally see what she really wants to tell you laid bare in front of you. _A need for reassurance_. She needs you to show her that she can trust you more than anyone else. That it's okay to break down the walls that keep her from the rest of the world, from you. That you can lift your arm and reach out to her, take away the last remnants of the cold metal that covers her skin and truly get to her, the one that she hides and conceals; caress her fear with your fingertips and turn it into pride. Give her a reason to look up and step into the void where you promise to hold her, bathing your world in the softest lilac you have ever seen. She deeply, desperately, seeks for someone. She needs to know it's okay.

She needs proof that it's acceptable if it's you who tends to them, who touches them.

You make a bold decision.

In the blink of an eye, you take off your black boots and carefully place them by the door. Edelgard watches you with confusion, following your movements with her eyes, but stays quiet not saying anything.

At least, she says nothing until you slowly start to take off your dark tights.

"Professor! What is the meaning of this!?" She exclaims, exalted. She turns around immediately, facing the direction opposite to you. You've never had an excessive sense of shame, if any, so you find Edelgard's reaction amusing. Her cheeks quickly turn a dark shade of red, and even with her back to you, you can see the tips of her ears turning pink. Her voice sounds nervous, jumpy, resisting the urge to yell at you for your actions. "Cease this behavior at once! How can you possibly believe this as acceptable!? Y-You're my Professor and it's late at night, what would anybody assume if we were to be found in this situation!"

Edelgard keeps talking and complaining relentlessly each time with a higher pitch of voice, urging you to stop; but you make deaf ears and you keep on taking them off, slowly sliding the fabric down your legs. When you have finished, you leave them on the floor next to your shoes. It's too late to back out. You've seen the line you shouldn't cross, and you've run through it. Now all you have to do is make her believe in you, no matter how unconventional your methods may be. You stand with your bare legs before her.

"I am utterly serious, Professor," Edelgard continues, starting to sound less nervous and more angry. "This is undoubtedly crossing the boundaries that are settled between us! As future Emperor, this is something I absolutely cannot tolerate, I-"

"I have them too," you say.

As soon as the words leave your lips, Edelgard falls silent. Silence returns to the room, enclosing both of you in it. In the distance, you can hear the crickets that nestle the night with their song, paused and rhythmic.

"I have them too," you repeat. "Scars."

"Professor..." Edelgard begins to speak, her voice a mere whisper, but you don't let her continue. You feel the nerves swirling in the lower part of your abdomen, climbing under your skin like small electric shocks. She has to listen to you. This is important.

"Some are huge. Some are barely noticeable. They, too, cover my skin," as you speak, you gaze at your own body covered with marks. You remember how you got most of them, others are older and you don't remember how long they've been there. But they are all part of the pattern of your skin, part of you. "You can see them."

Edelgard remains silent for one, two seconds, without giving any answer. But that's okay, you don't have trouble waiting. It's something you've also learned recently, and it's that each person has a different time of reaction. Sometimes people just need someone who is willing to wait for them. And you want to show Edelgard that you are there unconditionally. You wait, until, finally, the heiress turns around. Slowly at first, so much so that you think it's your imagination playing tricks on your tired mind. The moon pulls silver sparkles from her hair as she carefully shifts. Then, she's finally facing you. More or less. She still doesn't meet your dark gaze. Her eyes are focused on the scars that cover your bare skin.

"By no means I'm saying these are comparable to yours. I can't begin to imagine how that must have been like," you shake your head, also looking at the scars on your legs. You feel the cold night air over them. "But to some extent, I understand."

Edelgard remains silent, taking in the contour of each of your scars, studying you with a thoughtful, hesitant look. Her voice pierces the night and the space that separates you.

"Considering your former position as a mercenary, I understand it is only natural that you have them. Nevertheless, I hadn't thought..." she says, softly. Her violet eyes go from resting on your scars to meeting yours, framed by the veil of night. Edelgard trails off and her expression changes, as if a thought had suddenly appeared in her mind. "Is this why you wear your tights with such dark patterns?"

You stop to think about the answer, taking a look at your tights that rest on the floor, forgotten. They've been part of your outfit for quite some time, and you've never given them a second thought. They fulfill their purpose of keeping the warmth of your skin in place, and to prevent you from getting more wounds, even though they are easily torn. You shrug your shoulders.

"They were a gift from my father."

Edelgard stares at you silently, deep in thought. Her eyebrows are raised very slightly in an almost unnoticeable sad expression. You wonder why. You feel her gaze running through your body, inch by inch on your skin, as if what she sees was not enough.

"I also have scars in my upper body," you say, matter-of-factly. "If you wish so, I can take off my shirt as well."

A dark tone of red spreads beneath the skin of her cheeks like a crimson flower, and she adverts her conflicted eyes. You stare at her, waiting for an answer to proceed or not. Edelgard clears her throat with too much energy.

"That... won't be necessary," she does her best to cast confidence in her voice, but you feel the tension leaving her shoulders. A small smile gently draws on the corner of her pink lips. "I deeply appreciate this gesture, my teacher. It is certainly a rare occasion, witnessing vulnerability in such a strong opponent as you are. I hadn't..."

You shake your head, tufts of your dark hair brushing your cheeks messily. Edelgard falls silent, staring at you again.

"I don't believe scars to be a vulnerability," you say, simply.

Edelgard frowns slightly. She looks confused. Conflicted, even.

"But they are," she says, nodding to reaffirm her words. She gestures with energy, moving her hands in the small space that separates you. Her voice sounds insistent, a thick veil covering the sadness beneath. "Those are the flesh proof that you have been hurt, that you can be defeated."

"There's no such thing as invincibility. Every person has their own weaknesses," you state, shaking your head again. As a former mercenary, you feel the truth of your words beating under your skin. "However, I do not believe scars as such. They're the flesh proof that you have survived difficulties, that you are stronger."

Edelgard's frown grows deeper, small wrinkles forming on her skin full of frustration. You can see in her eyes echoes of the memories that come back to her like waves to a shore, with surprising ease and strength. Scars you can't see. Despite the power and stubbornness of her voice, her eyes are bathed in helplessness.

"Those moments of weakness, of reaching the utterly deepest and most devastating defeat, are carved into our flesh and bones, into _my_ flesh and bones," she says, with gleaming, insistent eyes. The hardness of her voice has slowly fallen, and now it’s only colored by a nearly desperate tone. "No Emperor should bear those signs upon the people they're bound to protect."

Hate, anger, gushes out of her lilac eyes. _This is what I am, this is what they turned me into_, she seems to say. She clings tightly to the fabric of her uniform over her chest. Over the larger scar. You feel the tension climb up your body, a dangerous electricity filling the air around you. As if the marks on her skin burned with the desire to close a wound that will never stop bleeding. Even if her wounds have already healed, they still hurt. You can see the pain in her eyes, the exhaustion. A string tugs within you, you want to erase that look and give her peace. You struggle to find the words, all collapsed and mixed up in your throat.

"Is that such a bad thing, really?" you say, ever so softly. Carefully, as if raising your voice too much would take those troubled lilac eyes away from yours. Your chest tugs, and twirls, and urges you to move, burning. So you do. You reach with your hand, slowly, and move some strands of silky white hair that were falling over her eyes, focused on yours, pleading. "After all, you are still standing here. Strong as ever, fighting for what you believe is right," you shake your head slightly, tufts of your hair falling disorderly on your shoulders. You feel a tingling at your fingertips, where your skin is still touching hers, but you don't move from there. Under your soft touch, you feel her shaking slightly. "Those marks are nothing but a reminder of what you are inherently capable of. They're part of your history. Experiences that brought you to this very moment, and that will fuel you to who you're bound to become."

Slowly, the silence grows and settles between you. You wait for your words to sink into her little by little, like the warm summer rain that drenches your clothes and leaves warm drops on your face. You wait for her answer, but she remains still. A thought creeps into your mind, and you fear you might have said too much; but you fear even more that if you say anything now, or even move, she will shatter. You imagine the ice that has covered her world up until now cracking under the weight of your words, melting with the warmth of your touch. So you remain still, listening to her heavy breathing in the inches of air that keep you apart.

"If that is true," she finally says, refusing to meet your gaze. "If you truly believe those words, how come do you cover them?" she asks, eyes crystalline.

It's a sensible thought, a good question. It is true that, for you, scars are just another part of your skin, memories of battles fought and of which you came out victorious, where you learned something. You don't feel the need to cover them, they don't mean anything beyond what they simply are, nothing bad or embarrassing. Of course, you do not feel the loathing for them that you see in Edelgard. _They are nothing_, you think to yourself. Ghosts of the past that don't haunt. But even so, the dark patterns of the tights you wear hide your scars from the sight of others.

You shrug, dropping your hands on both sides of your body.

"Aesthetic," you simply say.

Edelgard blinks two, three times. She looks up at you, eyes opened wide searching into yours for any proof that you're joking. But your face remains still, holding her gaze with your usual seriousness. You wouldn't joke about such an important thing.

"I find the need to ask, Professor," she tries, tilting her head to get a better view of your face in the moonlight. "Are you being serious this very moment?"

Her voice is bathed in the purest confusion. The lack of sadness of earlier is reassuring to you, but you show no emotion at all.

"I am," you nod in all seriousness. "Aesthetic," you repeat, in case Edelgard didn't understand you well the first time.

One, two seconds pass.

Now, you witness a sight that makes you shiver with warmth in the middle of your chest.

On her face blooms a smile, the corners of her lips rising gracefully, and suddenly you're hearing the tingling sound of her laughter in your ears. Mild and delicate at first, like the fluttering of a butterfly, but then strong enough to shoot a wave of warmth through your body, spreading through your veins and under your skin. You feel a smile drawing on your face, too, after a bubbly feeling in your stomach. You don't quite understand what was so funny. You don't remember telling any jokes, you've been serious since you entered her room. For you, the situation is quite strange, but you find yourself chuckling as well.

A single, small tear makes its way down the soft path of Edelgard's right cheek while she's still laughing, probably a residual expression of the heavy feelings she had before. Without realizing it or stopping to think about it, you reach out and you clean it with your thumb, your hand resting on the angle of her jaw.

Edelgard's cheeks bloom with crimson colors at your contact, but she doesn't move. She slowly lifts her eyes up to you, finding your darker eyes, the absent-mindedly smile still drawn on her lips. You feel your whole body shivering.

"You most surely are like no one I've ever met before, my teacher," she says, eyes focused on you. The soft lilac color floods over the edges of your little world, and you let it fill you.

"Considering the facts, I shall take that as a good sign," you say, still feeling the tingling sensation in your stomach and the smile hovering on your lips. Edelgard looks away, but the soft look on her face doesn't instantly vanish. You still have your hand cupping her cheek. A slight cold breeze slips through the window and makes you shudder. Suddenly, you remember something important. "Does this mean I can put my tights back on?"

Edelgard opens her eyes wide, instinctively looking down at the exposed skin of your legs, now dangerously close to her. Like a flash of lightning, she looks away to a random point of the room, away from you, with the pink of her cheeks dyeing impossible darker.

"Yes," she says, taking a step back and abruptly breaking the contact that linked both of you, suddenly hyper-aware of your sudden closeness. "Please do, my teacher."

You nod and step back too. Looking at her now, besides the sudden intimacy of the moment, you see Edelgard much more relaxed than before. She even laughed, and you laughed with her. It was a special moment that you had never shared with anyone, not in a situation as strange as this. You still feel traces of emotions that don't have a name for you bubbling in your chest. You wonder if now will be a good time to ask her. After all, you have only come into her room for one simple reason that you are determined to fulfill.

You take a tentative choose of words.

"Does this also mean that it's okay if I tend to your wounds?"

Edelgard looks away, also remembering your original intention. She bites the inside of her cheek, thoughtful for a short moment. But, instantly, you see her eyes seek yours again, determined and with a new soft glow that you hadn't seen before. She nods slowly, a sign that you guess is more for herself than for you, like reassuring herself that it's okay if it's you. Her voice tingles in your ears.

"I... would appreciate it if you did, Professor."

You nod, again letting a tiny victorious smile rest on your face. You feel lighter, almost like floating. You've never felt such pride in earning anyone's trust before, it's usually the other way around. So you let that gratifying feeling overflow out of you through the curve of your lips. Edelgard looks at you, and her eyes grow bigger when she sees you smile, nothing to do with your usual passive face. She turns her head away, her soft skin sprinkled with pink again.

Looks like you made it, you think. You can't help but feel a little pride in you, that you have managed to break through the cold walls of Edelgard. You have passed through her anger, eased her tension and walked slowly through the snowflakes that clouded her inside, cold and ethereal. You have searched for warmth within you and placed it in her hands, melting her defenses. But if this were a battle, you wouldn't be the one to win. It would be Edelgard who would take the victory, because she's the one who has won something in this uphill battle. She has won someone to trust, someone who really sees her under her cracked porcelain mask. And you will do your best to live up to the wounded heart of the future emperor.

"In that case, I will be changing into my sleepwear now."

You nod again before facing the other direction, giving her privacy, as you find your tights again that you left on the floor beside your black boots. Slowly, you put them back in, the fabric sliding up your skin gently, giving you back part of the heat that the cold of the night has slowly taken away from you. You hear the rustling sounds of Edelgard changing on the other side of the room.

When Edelgard finishes changing, her voice cuts through the silence, calling for you.

You turn around to find Edelgard with her white hair completely down, missing the braids that usually outline her face with lilac bows like her eyes. The long strands of hair fall down her back and shoulders like a winter waterfall, partly covering the also white nightgown she has just put on. She also wears some pajama pants underneath, since it's cold at night at this time of the year.

Her face is slightly flushed, but she looks at you with resolution, as if telling you she's ready. You can't help but notice the slight trembling of her fingers, playing absentmindedly with the edge of the cloth. You take several steps towards her, not losing eye contact. The lilac in her eyes is full of resolve, with no trace of fear or doubt.

"Show me the wounds," you say, standing before her. You reach to grab the first aid kit you left forgotten somewhere on her desk.

Edelgard nods. She walks to her bed, perfectly tidy, and sits with her back to you. You watch her move with ease, waiting. She lifts the nightgown fabric over her sides and keeps lifting it. Carefully covering the front part of her body, Edelgard finishes taking it off and she lays bare her back for you, facing the opposite wall. She doesn't say a word, and neither do you.

For a moment, all you can bring yourself to do is watch and stare. Her scars burn themselves into your retinas, the vivid outline like an impossible rupture across your own eyelids.

You knew Edelgard had scars, that much is true. You pictured it at first, without her needing to tell you, when that night in her room she told you about the horrors that happened to her and her siblings by those who were trying to awaken more power in the Hresvelg family. Then you thought about it again, that day on the balcony when she revealed to you her second crest, the same figure that shines within you and gives you incredible strength to fight. You didn't know its name, but it was undoubtedly the same crest when Edelgard showed it to you in the palm of her hand with a gaze bathed in sadness and perfectly contained anger. And finally, you thought about it again when, before in the training grounds, Edelgard mentioned her scars to you. You knew they were there, under all the layers of fabric and meticulous protection, covering her skin like marks of fire.

Still, you weren't ready for what's laid bare before your eyes. You didn't expect to see them so vividly close. It's only natural that you would, you think, considering your one and only objective there has always been caring for her injuries, helping Edelgard heal properly. Still, witnessing them so real and so within reach leaves you rather shocked. Your eyes widen a bit. A dark and painful feeling climbs through your body. It slips through your veins, dwells in your bones and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Her skin, incredibly pale under the trembling light of the moon that bathes you from beyond the window, is scattered with darker marks all over what you can see. Jagged, thick scars cover the skin on her back. Small scars, deep scars, cut-off scars and large ones cover her skin from one point to another. Over her spine, her lower back, her sides, the base of her neck. A painful large number of ropy scars run down the rest of her body where you can’t see. Down her hip, you lose track of them as her pants cover her legs.

You feel a boiling sensation at the bottom of your stomach, and you call it anger. A cold, spiteful and burning anger. Towards those who did this to her, who now sits vulnerable before you, trusting.

In between her shoulder blades, a thick bandage covers the skin underneath. You remember that as you stepped into her room, Edelgard told you that she had covered her wounds with some bandages, but she hadn't treated them entirely. You understand why, now. They are in a part of her body that isn't easy to reach. Also, Edelgard isn't training to learn healing magic, so she has no other way to treat herself. You feel glad you insisted so much.

Gently, you slowly take off the covering bandage. Edelgard moves slightly, leaving you room to work. The fine cloth, stained with blood patches on the inside, falls on the bed and finally reveals the wounds before you.

From the top right part of Edelgard’s right shoulder blade to the lowest point of the left one, a red wound looks somewhat bloody, still recent. Around it, small, shallower cuts also cross her skin. The bleeding must have stopped hours ago, you guess. It seems that it has started to heal on its own. Edelgard would probably have been fine because it's not a very deep wound, but you still feel that being there now is something important that you’re right to have done. A little prick of remorse flashes across your chest. You bite your lower lip.

You reach with one hand and slowly touch her skin, soft under your calloused fingers. At first with the tips of your fingers and then with the palm of your hand, you trace the scars on her lower back, keeping your touch soft and gentle. You feel her shivering underneath.

"Sorry," you murmur. You stop moving, staring at your hand on her skin, covering part of the scars that extend underneath. Her trembling continues, and you wonder if you're doing something that's bothering her. "Are my hands cold?”

"No, that is not it," she quickly shakes her head, white locks of hair falling over her shoulders and covering the angles of her shoulder blades.

You wait for her to keep talking, but she doesn't. She doesn't turn either, she stays facing the wall in front of you instead. You tilt your head, not understanding. The decision was clear earlier in her eyes, but as soon as you touched her, she started to shake slightly. You paused the movement of your hand but you haven't taken it away, waiting.

"Is this uncomfortable for you?" you ask, just making sure. This is about her, after all. Your main goal is to heal her wounds, that much is true. But your whole purpose is making her feel fine and secure. Perhaps you’re doing something wrong and you haven’t noticed.

Edelgard doesn't say anything for one, two seconds. You can feel the subtle tremors of her frame beneath your touch. You sit quietly, calmly waiting for her to be ready to give an answer.

"No," she says again, her voice as low and faint as a whisper. "It's just... it has been a long time since anyone caressed my skin with such… gentleness."

You feel the overwhelming desire of reaching forward and holding her, she soft feeling growing in your chest at dizzying speed, but you don’t. Instead, you freeze, staring at the tips of her ears turning a dark tone of pink.

"Edelgard..." you say, your voice sounding strange, unusually colored with emotions. You trail off, but Edelgard fills the void of the words that die in your chest.

"I apologize, Professor," she quickly says, shaking her head again. Her voice also sounds odd in your ears. "That was an inappropriate thing to say. Please, forget I said anything."

You shake your head, even though in this position she can't see you.

_I get it_, you think to yourself. Looking at the scars that cover her body, you can't help but understand her. It is something she has hidden for many years, bearing the loneliness that comes with the ignorance of those around her for a long time. Projecting that vision of strength and determination that radiates through all the pores of her body, but hiding the permanent marks of her ghosts of the past. As she told you before, only a few know of their existence, and only Manuela has had permission to touch them, under the strict precept of healing their wounds. _Up until now_, you think, with your hand still resting on her pale skin.

You trace the scars on her back with your hands again, feather-like touches gently caressing her skin. You feel her warmth under your touch, the carved roughness of the scars across her bones and beneath your fingertips. Edelgard shivers, but you don’t stop this time.

"It's okay," you say, softly. Your own body feels electrified on the spots where your skin is pressed against hers. You feel the tension in her muscles slowly, ever so slowly, melt under your tender hands. "Relax."

From the lower point of her back, you caress her skin climbing up in slow, serpent patterns, until you reach the immediate patch of skin closer to the wound. You stop, taking your hands away from Edelgard. She doesn’t move.

"I will use a healing lotion that Manuela gave to me," you explain, breaking the silence as you reach for the red box inside the first aid kit that she had given to you moments before coming to Edelgard's room. "It may be cold at first, and it probably will hurt a bit, but she said it will speed up the healing process."

Without turning to you, Edelgard nods. Then you spread the lotion on your hands and start applying it over her wounded skin, trying your best to be careful and not too rough. Delicacy has never been your strong suit, years of wielding swords and weapons have made it difficult, but you try your best just this time. You're sure it must sting and it surely is uncomfortable to have an open wound touched like that, you can tell. Still, Edelgard makes no sound nor shows signs of discomfort. She stands still in front of you, her breathing slow and paused. If it weren't for the warmth of her body, you would have said that your student is one of those marble statues that furnish the mausoleum of the monastery.

But then again, something similar could be referred to describe you in any situation. The words that Edelgard spoke to you on your first day at Garreg Mach, when you asked her to describe the students in her house, come to mind. She said that you and her had similar characters. At that time you didn’t understand, and the more you know about Edelgard the less you think that’s true. She experiences her feelings with great intensity but hides the darkest under a mask of perfect composure. Yet you don’t need any mask, because all your life the feelings that were to be housed within you have been a mystery that wraps a thick mist around you. Despite everything, right now Edelgard does remind you vaguely of you. You can both be as cold as statues, regardless of what lies within.

Silence falls on both of you, but this time it's a comfortable silence. Edelgard looks pensive, and you're too focused on doing your tasks that you forget to make small talk. You coat the edges of her wound with this cold lotion, wiping the traces of blood and bandage, putting extra care in each of your moves. A strong scent of aloe vera engulfs the air of the room, pleasantly filling your nostrils.

When you're done, you wipe your hands off on a white piece of cloth you brought with you and put everything back in the first aid kit. You make a mental note to return it tomorrow to Manuela.

You decide it's time to break the silence.

"Manuela has been teaching me healing magic," you say, tentatively. "I can heal wounds, though I can't make disappear the scars they leave behind."

You take a quick look at your arm, also with small scars from previous battles. You've never been especially interested in magic, if at all. Your sword was all you ever needed to be an exceptional mercenary, guarding your father's back against any enemy. But now that you’re a teacher, the well-being of your students falls upon you, and that has motivated you to want to learn some magic. Just a little, enough to protect them and heal them if necessary. Now, you think that initiative is one of the best you’ve had in the last few years.

"It's okay, my teacher," Edelgard says, not moving an inch. Her voice sounds sad in your head, despite her best efforts to make it sound casual. Slowly, you’re learning to see through her cracks. "I do have a few of those already."

You nod to yourself, that being all you needed to hear. You lift your hands closer to the wound, carefully not to touch it this time. You close your eyes for a second, focusing. Magic is something new to you and you're no expert, so you have to put in a little more effort. Soon enough, you feel the warm and tingling sensation of light magic emanating from your fingers. You open your eyes, satisfied, as you channel the energy towards her. The wound ever so slowly starts to recover, the flesh closing on itself and losing the intense red color it had before.

"How did you happen to acquire them, Professor?” Edelgard says, dispelling the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you.

"Hm?” you say, too focused on your task to know what she’s talking about.

"The scars over your legs,” she says, her voice sounding unsure, as if pondering if the question is too personal. It's not something you care to answer, given the circumstances. “How did that happen?"

"Oh. Bandits." You simply say, and you continue with the healing, not adding anything else. Still, Edelgard stays silent, waiting for further explanation. You clear your throat. "I don't recall much of what happened. I must have been still a child. I remember being captured by bandits and waiting calmly for my father to find me. They wanted to know whether my father possessed a relic, and if so, further information about it," you shrugged. "It didn't take long for my father to rescue me.”

You remember the leathery smell of the bandits' clothes as they grabbed you and took you to their secret place. The rough touch of the ropes on your wrists, not too tight. The harsh sound of the bandits' voices, asking you over and over again things that didn't make sense in your head. The silence you gave them as an answer to each and every one of their questions. The frustration gushing out of their burning expressions, opening crimson creases in your skin. The pain, another distraction you didn't mind bearing. Your father's firm, soft arms as he lifted you and took you out of there. The worry on his face, and the impassive reflection of yours in his eyes. You never spoke about that again.

"Not so long after, he started gifting me with tights," you say, as if the memory had bloomed out of some lost part of your memory.

"Does your father acknowledge scars as signs of strength as you do, Professor?" Edelgard doesn't sound tentative anymore, just curious. You wonder for a second, magic still tickling in your fingertips.

"I haven't asked him," you shake your head. Maybe you should. For some reason, you feel that he will think the same as you. After all, he has a huge scar on his face and he never seemed to care too much about it. To other people, he may seem scary, but you don't really get why. When you look at him, you only see the kindness and affection he has always treated you with. "Nevertheless, I appreciate his gifts. I always wear tights whenever he gets a pair for me."

"You have a kind heart, my teacher," Edelgard says, and you can almost hear her smile. Her words are drenched in a sad sweetness, colored with melancholy.

They remain floating in the air that separates you. You don't answer. Instead, you remain thoughtful about what she’s said to you. It's something no one has ever told you before. Many people, other mercenaries like you, villagers, the knights of Seiros and even your students have praised you for different things, usually for your skill with the sword and tactics in combat. But no one has ever told you before that you had a kind heart. The honesty in Edelgard's voice is undeniable, so you know she's not just flattering you, but it's something she really feels and has shared with you. But you wonder about the truth of her words. You have never stopped to think of noble things like honor or sacrifice, you just did what you believed was right. Does that make you a person with a kind heart?

You look down, where your hands keep healing the last traces of her wound that are still open, the smaller ones having already closed under your healing touch. Your hands, now covered with light tingling of magic, haven’t always been this way. Sometimes they have been stained with blood, the blood of another person you had just taken the life from. And you've done that countless times, for the right reasons or not, simply because it was what you had to do. Do you still have a kind heart? You've left behind your life as a mercenary and now you're a teacher, but your purpose hasn't changed much. Now you teach your students how to survive in battle, how to take more and more lives. You're leading them down a path where they'll see their hands drenched in blood, just like yours. War seems inevitable, the fruit of violence splattered across your palms and fingers, red and thick. Is that really having a kind heart? Your chest feels uncharacteristically tight.

You push these thoughts out of your mind, focusing again solely on healing her wounds. You don't speak again until you're done.

"This should be enough," you say as you stare at the new scar that crosses her shoulder blades, the wound finally closed. There's no sign of the open wound that was there a few minutes ago. You congratulate yourself internally for having done a good job, as you make another mental note to ask Manuela to teach you how to do more magical things.

"Thank you, Professor."

Edelgard says, pulling the nightgown again over her head, letting it fall down her shoulders and covering all of the skin that previously had been exposed for you. Scars disappear from your field of vision, but the ghost touch of their slightly rough surface under your fingertips still lingers.

You nod to yourself, satisfied. After all, you’ve successively accomplished your only goal there, that was healing Edelgard. Now you can let her rest and retire to your room again. Hopefully, it shouldn't be too late and Lady Rhea may not see you nor scold you. It may all go well, after how difficult it looked a while ago, when Edelgard refused to be honest with you, hiding from your eyes.

You get ready to get up and leave, without much more to say, but for some reason, you feel that something isn’t right. Edelgard sits with her back to you. Though she thanked you, she hasn't turned or moved one inch from her position. Unease climbs up your body like small claws.

"Are you alright?” you ask. You stare at her, somehow confused.

Edelgard doesn't answer right away. Instead, she takes a few seconds to elaborate an answer. Patience has never been a problem for you, but you feel the unease slip into the deepest part of you, through the cracks in your bones. When she speaks again, her voice sounds low and sad, despite her words being grateful ones.

"I tend to find myself in situations where I require your help rather often, my teacher. And so far you have always been there to aid me at the shortest notice," she says, not turning to face you. Her tone too difficult to read. "Back to the time of our first meeting, you shielded me from that mercenary. Here at Garreg Mach, every day you guide me on the battlefield towards victory. And here I am again, yearning for your care and protection."

You fix your gaze on what you can see of her now, which is her back, covered by the fine fabric of her nightgown. You stare at her, confused. You go over the latest events in your mind. Everything was going well, you even laughed and then you healed her. You wonder if anything else has happened that you haven't noticed, if you've ever done something wrong.

Edelgard focuses her attention on her hands, one resting over the other on her lap. It looks like a picture taken from an almost royal painting, a solemn scene. It would be, except for the faint trembling of her fingers. She closes them in two fists, stopping by force the shaking, the vulnerability.

"Edelgard?" you say, your chest uncharacteristically overwhelmed with feelings.

"Am I truly worthy of being Emperor, Professor?” she says, her voice cracking like summer ice. Through her cracks overflows a deep and visceral pain, like nothing you’ve heard before.

You don't know what to respond to that, nor where does that come from. Edelgard has always been one of the most confident students you have. Always with her head full of clear ideas, her future planned out. You don't recognize the doubt behind her voice, not remotely.

You want to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat. You've never been too good at showing your feelings out in the open like everyone else. So, if you can't say it, the best thing is to try to show it to her.

You softly place a hand over her shoulder, tentatively. The faint sad glow on her voice, the slight tremors of her skin, you wish you could make them all vanish at once.

"I was not the legitimate heir to the Adrestian Empire. Not at first, that is," she says, her head dropping two, three degrees. _This isn't how things are supposed to be_, she seems to say with the way her fists tighten.

"How does that make any difference?” you ask. You've seen people born and you've witnessed people die. It's just a matter of fate, sometimes. And fate doesn't play a fair game. Yet the bravest ones keep on playing against it hoping for one win, something they can call their own. Your frown deepens where Edelgard can’t see you. Your voice unsteady, tangled thoughts desperately trying to find their way out of your mouth. "You've worked harder than anyone to be where you are today, Edelgard. You have fought your way through life with the harshest will to live, to prevail."

You say that so firmly and matter-of-factly that nobody would questions your words, let alone defy them.

"Yes, I have," she says, barely containing the shaking of her voice. Short, tense, electrical. Like a thunderstorm about to fall upon the earth. "Only I remain. Everyone who I held dear lays now beneath my feet on their eternal rest, as I keep on walking this bloody path that's both my blessing and my _curse_."

Edelgard spits out those words with disdain, as if they mean much more than she wants you to see. You refuse to give up like you always have. You won’t give up on her, on her ability to see the good she can do now, in spite of everything.

"You have a chance now," you say, drawing slow circles with your thumb on her shoulder, reassuring. "A chance to make things better. The power to change the cycle of violence and pain."

She makes a noise in her throat similar to a laugh, muted. It sounds melancholic in the lingering air of the night.

"So much power, yet I lacked the ability to help anyone back then," she says, her eyes reflecting reminiscences of the past. You see her ground before it splits, the fire of her anger fading away before the windstorm of sadness and sorrow swallows her voice. "Nor the chance to choose a future of my own."

She slowly turns to you, her face conflicted, as if she was fighting back tears before they can force their way free. You feel a heavy sensation within you, a burden that swirls and stirs with anguish at her sight.

She looks at you with pleading eyes, seeking for the answers that will never come, for the reassurance that in other life, things would have been easier, less painful. She searches in your eyes for peace, for safety. Lilac storming inside of you like she knows the way in, like she always was supposed to be there.

Your stomach feels heavy, yet your hand is light when you reach up for her face, cleansing the one and only tear that escaped her fortress of ice. She gives in to your touch, resting her cheek against your calloused palm, closing her eyes briefly.

"How will I protect anyone if I couldn't protect myself?"

She says, as low as a broken whisper. Her voice shatters, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, still refusing to let go when she looks at you again. You have never seen her cry before. You’re not sure you ever want to.

Inside of you, something is pleading, urging you to do something, to ease that expression in her face. You wish to run your hands through her hair, wipe off her face of those heavy tears she’s trying so hard not to let free. You look at your hand still softly resting on her shoulder, and you can only think of how your touch hurts like a bruise because it’s not enough. You’ve never felt anything like it.

You give in, cupping her face between your hands. You feel your own expression turning overwhelming with feelings. Torn, worried, agonizing. You search in her eyes, mirroring her pain. Like it’s hurting you, too, even if you can’t possibly understand the way her chest bleeds and hurts.

You wouldn't know if it's you, or if it’s her, but somehow you both reach for the other. Edelgard lays her head on your chest, her face hidden under your chin, and you wrap protective arms around her. You feel her fit in you like the lost piece of a puzzle. Your arms know their way around her shoulders, as if they had been there before in another life. You draw slow silhouettes on her back, tracing the limits of her scars with your fingertips.

You had expected her to cry, but she doesn’t, not yet. You still sense the tension taking hold of her body. She draws heavy breaths, like she's trying her best to not burst into tears, not on you. To keep her ground even in this situation. You wish to know what you should respond to that. You long to make her see what you see in her, yet your mind is clouded and you can’t find any magical words to gift to her.

You gather Edelgard up in your lap and cradle her gently, rocking both of you back and forth on the bed. _She’s lighter that she looks like_, you think as you let her rest her weigh on you, her hot and troubled breathing crashing into your neck.

She doesn't say anything else, and you think for the moment it's okay to just let her rely on you. You keep that position for a while, letting the silence fill the void of your unspoken words. You continue drawing patterns on the fabric of her back, soothing. Silence stretches, but it’s okay.

It is until you feel the tiredness of the day creep up your body. You feel the need to move, but it’s hard to do so with Edelgard still wrapped around you like that. You hesitate, but ultimately decide to move. You pick Edelgard up, who is quietly curled up against your frame, and slowly place her lying on the bed. She turns and faces the wall, maybe unable to look at you, or perhaps just tired.

You hesitate for a moment. Since your original and only task is completed, which was healing her wounds, you could leave now. The sensible part of your brain tells you to leave now since you don’t have any other business to do there. Your body tells you to go, your muscles pleading for a good and deserved night of rest. Still, you look at her and really can't find it in you to leave her side.

Right now, this is the wrong decision you can’t stop yourself from making.

So you make the boldest move and decided to trespass the rest of the boundaries you hadn't yet, and you lie next to her on the bed. Her warmth, though faint and distant, is still here. You give in to the now-familiar softness within you.

At first, you feel the tension crawling up in her body again. You're not too close, but close enough for her to know you're there, both physically and emotionally. Edelgard doesn’t move. She doesn’t say anything. You can’t help but wonder if this is, after all, going too far, but you recall learning that psychical affection helps boost both morale and the mental state of allies. You wonder if you’re doing the ‘affection’ part alright so far. You feel the need to break the silence that separates you.

"You protected me, Edelgard," you whisper to her back, not moving an inch. Her white hair is splattered over her pillow in front of you. You look slightly down, to the place where her shoulder blades would be. A twinge of remorse makes its way into your chest. "That wound you have, it was meant for me, was it not? Yet you took the risk and protected me on the battlefield. You were sure I hadn't noticed."

You remember Dimitri’s lance. The way it shined like silver with the sun shining above your heads. His face glowing, an expression of triumph across his factions before even slashing any final blow. Then Edelgard’s hair, white and flashy as it waved in front of you in an instant. Her quick movements, anger, pride and decision scattered through her lilac eyes and the metal of her axe. You thought you had seen something, but it was all so fast you later thought that it must have been your imagination. Soon, Dimitri was defeated, and the battle was over. You didn’t realize it then, but you now know.

"Professor...” Edelgard says, reluctant.

"You tend to suffer in silence, in places of other,” you say, thinking out loud. Her slender figure lying in front of you. The scars she hides carved in your retinas with fire. “Hide your wounds where no one can see them."

"Don't...” she shakes her head weakly, stumbling over words.

"You hold a facade of confidence and security,” you remember her iron face, a mask of porcelain keeping everything at bay, every feeling she doesn’t know how to manage, or can’t bring herself to. Her words sharper than any blade you’ve held before. “You enjoy thinking about invincibility, and how it must feel like."

"Stop...” she whispers dejectedly.

"Yet underneath you're just like any other human,” your voice sounds hoarse, your throat feels tight. “Fears and ghosts also live in the shadow you leave behind as you walk through your path."

You know you shouldn’t be saying this even before the words leave your mouth but you can’t stop them. As if they were a waterfall, your words pour over Edelgard, cold like winter rain. You don’t want to sound mean, but your words keep coming. Like an accident, like a misstep in battle, like a killing blow. You’re tired of her heavy feelings, of watching her destroy herself by not caring enough, by always aiming to her limit. Shattering herself, her happiness, everything she’s ever worked for.

"Please, Professor...” she curls into herself, perhaps trying to vanish.

"Just like me," you say, reaching up and caressing her hair with the softest of touches. Her white waves blend between your fingers. "Just like everyone else who exists around you and who cherishes you. Just like everyone you protect in battle every time we go on a mission."

"What?” She says quietly, turning to look at you. Her face cracks for a split second, heartbreak evident underneath before it smoothes itself over again. You give her a small reassurance smile.

"You are a brave warrior, Edelgard. You will be the best Emperor that Adrestia has had the pleasure of having," you say, placing your left hand over her cheek and leaving soft caresses. Her eyes grow watery again, reacting to your touch. "And you are so very strong. You have been for the longest of times," your voice is low and nurturing. You feel the warmth spread across your chest like the tingling of white magic. Light, warm, lingering. You want to give her everything you have. "You can rest now. It's okay, you're safe here."

You let the concept sink in, lilac cracking under the moon.

Edelgard freezes for a second. You feel the tension growing again within her, her muscles turning slightly rigid. She closes her eyes tightly, and right when you think she's about to move again and face the opposite direction, she moves closer to you; placing her head under your chin again, her face hidden in the crook of your neck.

You wrap your arms tighter around her, curling into her to hold Edelgard closer. Involuntarily, a sound of utter pain and misery bursts forcefully from her. As a consequence, her messy and hitching breathing turns into heavy sobs, muffled by the fabric of your shirt. With those sobs come small hiccups, shivering through her body like electricity; reaching to you and making you feel her hurt, too. You trace your fingers through her hair with slow and light movements. Slowly, reassuring. You don’t find anything else to say right now. Finally, the shivering of her body turns into violent shakings, as louder sobs make their way into the air you're sharing. You feel as if she had been trying her hardest to not spill everything she felt, but now everything was bursting out at once like a broken tap.

You let her weep, as heavy sobbing break through her little body, making her shiver between your arms. You hold her through it all, whispering sweet nothings in hope that would ease her pain, soothing her with soft caresses on her back and with fingers through her hair.

Edelgard finally opens up to you. She tells you what her heart is painfully hiding, limbs tangled together in her bed, her voice bruised, raw and heavy in your ears, her scarred skin pressed against you like it’s the only place in the world where she remembers how to let go, how to feel.

"I keep seeing them, Professor," she says between sobs, holding tight to you as if you were the last lifeline she had left in all the broken things she owns. She swallows over the lump in her throat, trying to keep the tears at bay until she can get her words out in the open. Like she owes you thismuch, at the very least, after all your efforts to get to her. Like she owes you anything. "They are heavily wounded, in so much pain. Yet I can't do anything to help them. I never can."

You remember what she told you about her nightmares, and you hold her impossibly closer.

"I can only stare," she continues, still in that bare, aching voice. Your heart breaking more with each word she says. "They bleed, but I cannot make it stop. I stand idle and let it happen again and again, night after night."

You think that if ghosts are real, every single one of them hovers over her, waiting to claim her as their own.

"It's okay," you soothe her, holding the base of her head with your right hand. "They're gone, Edelgard. They're not suffering anymore."

You reach up, taking her face in your warmer hands, and you brush Edelgard’s tears away with your thumbs.

"But they...” she says, heavy tears falling on your hands. She trails off, unable to finish that line of thought. As if she hurt so much she couldn’t put the words out of her mind. Her façade has long fallen, and she can’t do anything to fight back her sorrow. She can’t do anything but let the pain dig its claws into her scarred skin and tear her apart piece by piece, memory by memory.

"You're not there, Edelgard. You're here, in your room," you say once; and then repeat it over and over like a mantra until she seems to have calmed down. Her shivering continues, but her breathing grows calmer. You find your way into her hair again, the tips of your fingers tingling with electricity where your skin touches her skull. "I'm here for you. You're safe. _You're safe_."

Edelgard doesn’t reply. She weeps instead, her own fingers clutching so tightly at you that you feel little stings of pain where she’s holding onto you. But you can’t find it in you to complain. You don’t say anything, don’t move her away an inch. You simply wait, wrapping your arms tight around her like you could jeopardize your own life if you ever let go of her.

"I'm safe," eventually, she mutters. She sounds like she hadn’t said those words out loud in years. "But I miss them, Professor... I despise being alone..."

You understand. She’s homesick for a place that doesn’t exist anymore.

"You're not alone, Edelgard," you say as you feel her returning the embrace, her tight grip growing softer around your edges. "Not anymore. Not ever."

You never were one to make promises. You don’t know what the future holds for anyone, and you certainly don’t have the power to talk about things that lay beyond your immediate power. However, you can't bring yourself to say anything else right now other than sweet promises of what burns as true in your heart. You never want to leave her side. Not now, probably not ever. You want to be nothing but reassurance for her. A safe place.

By the sound of her calming breathing, you believe you've managed. Her sobbing has quieted to the kind of crying that makes the silence around cruelly unbearable. Minutes linger lazily.

You don't know how much time you spend in that same position. She's still quietly weeping in your arms, and you keep dragging your fingers through her head, her neck and then her back, drawing figures, contouring her scars and bones, and caressing softly the skin on her arms.

Finally, her sobs stop at some point. Her breathing is calmer: she breathes in deeply and releases the air very slowly. It soon becomes a pattern, and you find yourself following it too, along with each breath she takes. After several minutes, you guess she's probably asleep. You cease with your caresses and close your eyes. From the position you're in, with Edelgard pressed against you, you feel small vibrations in your chest, something you've never experienced before. You focus on the sensation, focusing all your senses into it. And you find it. Slow and somewhat distant, Edelgard's heartbeat echoes over your chest. You're surprised because it's something you know you don't have, something you've never had. Sometimes you had wondered what it would feel like to have a heart beating in your chest. Now, with Edelgard pressed close to you, you can feel it almost beating inside you too. Small pulses full of energy. _You're alive, you're here_, they seem to say.

Then, you make a silent promise to Edelgard. You will protect her heartbeat, whatever price your will demands. You will fight at her side against any enemy to keep her alive, to keep her close.

Your joints complain when you finally move Edelgard slightly away, getting enough space to finally turn and face the ceiling. The air is heavy tonight. The silence of the night enfolds you like a veil, only disturbed by the sound of your rhythmic breaths and her faint heartbeats.

You look at her face, her puffy eyes and red nose, her slightly tangled hair, and you can't help but think how _beautiful_ she is. How hard life has been on her so far. You feel the tugging need to protect her yet again, and you make a silent plea to the Goddess, hoping she would allow you to do so, from now on.

You stare at Edelgard breathing for a while, the slow ups and downs of her chest, how her long eyelashes flutter in her dream; the way she tugs closer to you, seeking your warmth. You smile to yourself, feeling at ease. Your body is still tired and aching, and you wish nothing but letting it rest for the night, yet you find yourself keeping an eye on her in case her peacefulness fades again. _Physical support and affection_, you remind yourself. You feel like you’re doing it right.

At some point, she opens her eyes, colored with drowsiness.

"Professor...?” Edelgard mumbles, lilac focused on your darker eyes, naive.

"You fell asleep," you say to her confused gaze.

She looks around slowly, and when she realizes the closeness of you two, a dark shade of blush covers her cheeks. Still, she doesn't move away. She takes a few seconds to ground again. You let the circumstances sink in at her own path. Then, she seems to remember everything that happened, everything she said, and her eyes grow wide in horror.

"Goddess, I am so very sorry for the troubles I've caused you, my teacher," Edelgard says, her gaze drifting away from you. "I should have kept my emotions to myself, instead of forcing them on you like that. Please, forgive my childlike attitude."

You shake your head, drawing a small reassurance smile on your face.

"It's okay, Edelgard," you say, and the blush on her cheeks grows a shade darker. Despite her apology, she hasn't moved. And by the looks of it, you think, it doesn't seem like she will be moving anytime soon. Not that you wish for that, anyway. Your mouth tastes sweet, your words slipping out. "How do you feel?"

Edelgard thinks for a moment. Her brow slightly furrowed, as if she was gazing inside of herself, checking that her crushing wave of emotions had finally calmed down to a mere peaceful lagoon. She gives a long sigh and then looks at you, her expression smoothing infinitely. A tiny but bright smile is shining on her lips, hopeful.

"Better, my teacher."

The corners of your eyes wrinkle when you smile back. Your gaze relaxes, takin in every minuscule detail of the Edelgard that’s in front of you. How her lilac eyes drawn you in soft, lavender colors. The curve of her mouth, unburdened, free. The sharp angle of her jaw, where you’ve rested your hand before. Her snowy hair, endlessly smooth to the touch, slipping between your fingers. The sound of her heartbeat, still lingering in your ears. Vivid, close, brave. You wish you never had to let go of her.

"Then I'm glad," you simply say. For what exactly, you're not sure. For being able to help, to be reassuring, a safe place. For having witnessed her walls coming down just for you. For having held her during her storm inside. For the future to come.

You hold her gaze for a while, as she keeps on staring deep into your eyes as well. You feel her lilac spill over the round edges of your world, around every corner inside of you, filling the cracks in your bones and the empty space inside your ribcage. The warmth of your chest spreads again, pleasant like the light of a new day. You wonder what this might be, what name does this have.

Edelgard yawns.

"Pardon me, Professor," she says, her eyes fluttering with drowsiness. "I'm exhausted."

You nod. It only makes sense, after everything that had happened. The electricity still lingers in the air after the storm has passed. Soon, you yawn too, mirroring Edelgard. The exhaustion of the day comes back to you all at once, as if you’ve been hit with the heaviest of weapons. You close your eyes, facing the ceiling again.

But you open them almost immediately, the thought that you're in a student’s room in the middle of the night striking you like lightning. You know that this is anything but acceptable. And at this moment there is nothing left for you to stay here, you have no further purpose related to Edelgard anymore. This time, your sensible side wins.

"Edelgard," you call her. She had already curled up against the familiar warmth of your skin again, sleepy.

"Yes?” she says, not lifting her head from her hidden stop in your neck.

"Do you want me to leave now?” you ask, neutral as always.

Your first and foremost important task there was completed long ago, that was having her wounds taken care of. Still, you stayed despite it not being fully professional nor rational. But her state was rather fragile, and she needed support. As her teacher, as her friend, you had the duty of providing it.

But now that she's better, at the verge of sleep, there's nothing strong enough to hold you back from leaving the dorms and heading to your own room. _Still..._

"Since it must be late...” Edelgard says, her voice uncharacteristically naïve, her breath against the skin of your neck. "I believe it would not be safe for you to leave now."

She looks content despite everything, and for you that’s what speaks the loudest of it all. The absolute certainty of you beside her.

"Early in the morning, then," you say, as you find a more comfortable position, wrapping Edelgard again in your soft embrace.

"Early in the morning, yes," she says, sleepy, scooping closer to you. She hides her head in the spot under your chin, locks of her hair tickling your neck.

You close your eyes, listening to Edelgard's soft breathing, feeling the sweet, rumbling beating of her heart upon yours.

"Thank you, my teacher," she says, right before she drifts off to sleep.

You follow her right after.


End file.
